


Mu Hint ft 


Ex? 







•SH^v ttrfS 3 ^WT*K' ~ Wr-" /v M-*r ; * h • w>mX;- ..'*! 

■“VWKK* I'tY*,*' Y*> -' •■ - ---Mwvi CK**> [;J»£Lfe£.«Lj.JT, L_ « 

iflVj'f*- i iT J ‘ »' *>->-•.v-«n'**JN/> ,+ <2+ ..-ij.Ciir 

•rf^KW'.lfty ^'♦V*Vn* 4 ^*kU'.»»- ,-.tj 

4 ’ •* /, r > rr*re^r'*V» C! 

' r i . ■ H^'l •'r* •rM , .*r l ^fW •‘‘ , - •*? vVi*4t'* 4- ’*•«*•« Hn • 

1 1 * *■»*jrt''*! * vr‘ u H*'HV' *< **V-fcvML •'}-*•- ***»H ; *n •>••- «/•»* , • v , .. v, 

t^Wfc'^s -£K; KTJiltet;;-J 


i*V' |-*V j.'W *V’l' 

n>wM‘ 



swi^ v 4 *y^r{o& j$k ostfsr;: ■ x& 

V |* r"f;4:tlTh*V!iff*'' •*!*■'r*s~ M-ryfiv- rt^. fiKS'v.r*.v-**«<*• r+ty\t. •. 

/ Hwl r^v TKV "V ’-*)<■' -y ■*» -,<•»>. •./ .*-»Vt*-u. *w 

/l’S''',*. f : ’.‘ 4 v ’'*V' - •>•.>••■ ■ ■.F\,\‘ . « u- .m-».» #a»- »•*..-< 

fr.i yi; nin • ’•*.* -' ,i •* <v •• -•• w r , < 

}-. i. ft’- , "* P r' f ‘ * */>?■». h-Wv** •, >*vf .•%>•./ »<■> (•' 

f| , ’ .*' ;; ' <K‘ . r, .r- f .rii.ly-w 1 i; i',vi-i?' Kl’i* «•('■» ^ IN 

ArfaSrJf^ J fi 1 •'""}■ .*'*• -v rM ^£te"'ir'i' K (J 4 

' 1 !r rl*r>h■ t > T-tf ••* j-' :*r* * ^ - 



. **>v 

yry/r^* 

■* Ys^*< r rs )*>% 


' ■>'. > i-.^-v*.J-<-*- H , *V‘ •►*• ’'H'-.r. #v.*' 

' *-<riri.- -ti.'A, i Hf -V 

*•%*». *n\ tl ->j ^yr-jr."^ ■• ifii -h i )»J’L++^+fi.-t\‘ tlr -!*y> 


- - - - 

i*niA 


MW 








... . . 

4 v'.^y f - k ..u.if» r , - 

IrwiKi-vH 

' lN-Uv(V-i- v l '»-'r.V.n 
-H> rtb^'^Y. r-v- 


r-. 'Vi**^T 



B 




uuC'K&S- 

imhHm 









































































































U rP \ 



\ g°V 

>° ^ -. 



. ^ v f 


<u *'TTsP J? 

.Cr ^ Y * 0 




H o, 






« c5 ^ 

«, v ,# % •, 

r 0 v * Y * 0 *> >£> 

^ ^ ^ 59 ♦ % 



° ^ - 

• ^ /a *->r * -ay vjn * ^„„„ ujrs 

*<< *. s^ A°^ ^ s s^ A 

^ C 0 V * V * 0 ,. \\ * * 0 V Y * o 

o *£_ . r r\^/,V ^ ^ ^ 

* *-' c ™^° * 


° r§W° z ^o 1 

, wr - tf* ^ "• IHlV ^ ^ . 

' * * ;>T*£'.V * *"'<*' * - v" <. 0 , v— 

s ^-*«*• V* .:Mb\ W \<fi 

$ ^ -* ®ifili=?’ « ,<$ ^ 





-5 «5 ^ , 

^ '**°^ »'■>, V"* 

^ 7- K? <5i « 



Kp 

° "^Jt. 0 Y 

..,° ^ % i 

- -% -a.^ ol 

'' v^ .* v ,.V * *'' \>*, v .. /% 

\# ' 


* f # % ^ V 

^ » v * » r <P ' * * ' ' G <# *. x * o 

° '*$•<? 5*^° * 




%%, , &0 ° v <• 

° z w r *|py|: ^.o Y * 

- * «/ ^ \liif* 

..'' # %, '•vf; * ’' ,# . 0 

?• *? Sj * 


t/* f\ v as rV.\W<^A\/// 

z 

° ,c5» - 


<s 



C c3> -1 

r - oy 5 % * 

S^ ,0^* % ^ , 

. ,.„ <>„ J **' (# ,. 

^\J ^ 






o <„ ~ 

° z ^ o< * 

9, ,/ «fc.^. 

V ^ Y ^0 /- ^ 

7 (3^ ♦ 




' -W^ ^ -QV <P ^ 

p^' y » o ^ ^ S A G ^ 

^ o Y ~ ' 



^ * <r S 


■% r ’ 

s a° 




° 

O 

z: 


i> <r 




:❖ 


^ "*■ G^'p 
: * 

J> '•; J> «: ■- 

V v \ ^ Y % 

“ ^ ^ ‘ r ^ A^ ° ^ & T 

^ <<v - A\l/A o Xp<^ 






: ^ ^ 



’ " lyi." J'-/ ° c.^ ^ « cS ^ ^ 

» '0 /// »<rS S a 6 4 '77 <t S S% A^ '❖'* ur T s ' v «( 

g°v:'°'.\ & “ c°^ 

rAr^o< .* 

j5 q^. - <• <5 q, -. Ssife^ * <d? 


« <0 

P _ « 


V % 


Y * 


'b.'^s'' # ^O,' 

V a Y 0 . ^ 

























































'°ir 


' * *' s c 0 ^' * 


& Sk - 
* # *%* *> 


- .rX 





</><y 


° ^ ^ 

* oV <sN 



° ^o> 

■*> \v ^ » 

-\ -CL^ 

» * s S ^ 

V * Y * 0 /• ^ 

Cv « 


/> \ 


:V 



V *. ' * °s ^ 

- ^-4ts4% ° %■ Ar 



■ 9o 

°- '•*" v'V*», % '**’' v< 


< * 






° ^S S ^ 

^ oV ^ 

s ' A^ V ^ X/ ^ ^ s s \a G ^ 



V * 0 . 


tV <r 




































































































$ 



/ 71. 


t&e 7Z(.?-T^ 77^ //*V 


7^7-^ 4 7~ ^// ^Cc* /T 4. JZ o 




ZS 


*5us ±S 


& Z-* 



'V- ^ 



^ ZL* 







^ r* <7i 








7 %z. 


• a' 

*^Z0C ^c ^ 



A t/“ - ^ c 









*^0 L>c*fz V 4 

V 7 . 

{if mf r f 7*77i i 
















\ 







t W *c 
X 7 







* 



i 



i L O R M V i A T L C M : 


THE AUTHOR, 


MELA BifTTANNICUS. 

/ 





SECOND EDITION, 

WITH 

ADDITIONS AND EMENDATIONS, 



CLIFTON AND BRISTOL: 

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR; 

AND SOLD BY STRONG, CLARE STREET. 


) ) I } J ) ) ) 

) > i ) 

'> ) > * .) j 

« > > «- 

*> > •> ) > ) 


MDCCC XXXIX. 



X 


I 


6^57 

/ ti 


«• l(C i , C C r < C t C 

c < C c < c e c t c c 
<< < C C « v t <. <Ccc c 

C < < C c ( tc* cc t 

c < ct cc c C CCCCCC 


c c «* t c c « ( 
c c c c 

c ( * € < c 

c c f < 

C C ( ( C C 




c c c 

t 

c o 
« 

( c c 




< 


c c < 







BRISTOL: 

PRINTED BY J. CHILCOTT, WINE STREET. 



PREFACE. 


Prefaces, at least lengthy ones, seem to 
have expired with the last century; and, 
except in works of science, and profound 
research, whereto they may serve as vehicles 
for necessary prolegomena, they may be fairly 
deemed no loss to the reading part of the 
community. Nevertheless, established usa^e 
requires, that some prefatory notice, howsoever 
short, be made, to serve as an introduction to 
a work of even less importance than the fol¬ 
lowing; the first part of which consists of 



IV. 


PREFACE. 


manuscripts selected from the author’s travel¬ 
ling portfolio, and which probably can only 
be deemed interesting by those whose desul¬ 
tory hours may be amused, by being thereby 
reminded of places and circumstances, equally 
noticed perhaps by themselves and the author. 
This observation is particularly applicable to 
the first part of this work, titled the Hor^e 
Juveniles; and for which the author claims 
much the same quota of indulgence, as is usu¬ 
ally bestowed on works of the same calibre, 
and with which the press, in these days of 
scribbling license, teems. The poems, or 
rather verses , lay claim to no other merit, than 
that of having been bond jide composed on the 
spots, where they severally profess to have 
been written, during a series of extensive 
travels. But the second, and last part, intitled 
the Hor/e Romance, though the principal 
topics were the fruit of the authors solitary 


PREFACE. V. 

excursions in the .environs of Rome, was con¬ 
siderably enlarged by subsequent meditations 
in England ; and may therefore lay claim to 
a more attentive perusal than the preceding 
part. 








* 























































. 

























































PART THE FIRST. 


CONTAINING 


THE HORiE JUVENILES. 





JOURNAL OF A TOUR 


PROM 


ST. PETERSBURGH TO VIENNA. 

/ 

IN THE YEAR 1807. 


VIDI PHARETRATOS GELONOS, 

ET SCYTHICUM INVIOLATUS AMNEM. 


Horat. Od. lib. iii. 4. 




ADVERTISEMENT. 


The following Journal of a Journey which I made 
from St. Petersburgh to Vienna, as long ago as in the 
summer of 1807, is puerile and scanty enough; I am, 
nevertheless, tempted to select it from my portfolio 
papers, for three reasons: first, because Poland, which I 
traversed, attracts much at present the public attention; 
secondly, because the route which I followed, has been 
rarely passed by an Englishman; thirdly, because Gray t/ 
has somewhere remarked, that a few sentences written 
on the spot, are worth a cart-load of recollections. 












































X 




: 







JOURNAL OF TRAVELS 


FROM 


ST. PETERSBURGH TO VIENNA. 


June 25, 1807. —At last I quit Saint Petersburgh, 
after having performed a journey of about six thousand 
miles from that capital to the Taurida and back. I am 
now at Kiepen, forty-two versts from the metropolis of 
the czars, not without a battle with the postmaster in 
Strelna, who insisted on double what he ought to have. 
Threats on my part to write to Count Budberg, minister 
of foreign affairs, Lord Douglas, our minister, having 
charged me with despatches for our embassy at Vienna. 
All in vain—the overcharge must be paid, and the an¬ 
swer to my menace, “ Cela rri’est egal ,” pocketed. I 
met another rapacious postmaster, at Pielen; but this, 
and much more, must be borne by travellers in Russia. 
I found the country from St. Petersburgh to Narva very 

barren of interest, presenting the usual features of the 

% 

15 



‘2 


hor.*: 


Russian landscape, namely, dwarf birch and fir; and, 
except two or three of the villas within a few versts of 
the capital, I may safely say there is nothing worth 
notice. Yamburgh has quite the air of a deserted town. 
Narva is not considerable, but celebrated for the victory 
which the Swedes gained a century ago, when Charles 
XII. outwitted Peter. I surveyed, of course with interest, 
the field of battle, quoting Johnson’s nervous lines, but 
with no enthusiasm ; for surely Johnson could not have 
meaned to stigmatize that spirit, which prompted Charles 
to retaliate for the three slaps on the face, which he had 
received simultaneously from the czar of Russia and the 
kings of Denmark and Poland. Till the battle of Pul- 
towa, he had more reason on his side than most other 
conquerors. His career subsequent to that action, was 
no doubt marked by a sort of feverous mania. Omitting 
the prudential qualities of a great general, never was 
there such a complete soldier. Mars got him out of 
Bellona herself; and if chastity in man, as all divines 
and most philosophers have deemed, rank high in the 
scale of moral excellence, Charles outshines all heroes 
in this particular, save, perhaps, the emperor Julian. 
The cruelty he exercised towards the Russian commis¬ 
sary is the darkest blot in his character. As I walked 
on the banks of the river, I indulged in speculations on 
the probable issue of his meditated expedition against 


JUVENILES. 


3 


England, had it taken place. He most likely would 
have landed somewhere near the Humber, and effected 
a junction with the troops of the Pretender. That ac¬ 
complished, there can be no doubt that he would have 
gained London; whence he would have expelled the 
reigning family, and substituted in their room the 
Stuarts. There would have been two or three severe 
battles; but what could our troops, however brave, have 
effected against the most formidable and hardy troops 
the world ever saw, not excepting the Macedonian pha¬ 
lanx ? He then probably would have made the Londoners 
pay the cost of the expedition; and then he would have 
returned to Stockholm, flushed with all the pride that 
Alexander felt on entering Babylon. 

But the fine falls of the river Narva soon banished all 
thoughts of the northern Alexander. The whole stream, 
for about thirty feet, is precipitated over granite rocks, 
and at the greater shoot, takes so rapid a turn to the 
left, that the spectator may stand opposite to it. A vast 

number of timbers, piled in a disorderly manner round 

% 

several saw-mills, add to the picturesque effect of the 
cataract. The large aspens that grow on the island, 
between the falls, are the largest I ever saw; and the 
prismatic colours were very striking. Picturesque is the 
appearance of the ancient walls of Narva. One of the 
springs of my Polish britska has given way; but this is 


4 


HORjE 


to be expected by those who deal with the Russian 
Hatchetts and Leaders. 

Pskov, June 28.—Scanty are my records of the road 
between Narva and Pskov, a town at the southern ex¬ 
tremity of the great Peipus Lake, and distant from Narva 
two hundred and six versts. The road lies through one 
continued forest of birch and fir, is very sandy, and ex¬ 
cept the vast Peipus Lake, void of interest. The village 
of Gdov stands at the northern end of the lake, whence 
the river Narva issues. It was a splendid evening; and 
a brisk wind from the east drove large breakers on the 
shore. I looked eastward, and could not see the oppo¬ 
site land. Along this dreary forest, which has no grand 
trees to set it off, nothing is seen but a log posthouse, 
every twenty versts or so; nothing heard but the howls 
of the isvoschik to his horses, or the whistling of the 
wind among the boughs. Game I saw none; but a fox 
or a wolf skulked occasionally across the road. There 
were no signs of cultivation, till the last station before 
arriving at Pskov, which is a government town, and an 
old straggling place. I know nothing of its history; but 
if I might judge from the remains of its walls, it must 
have been a place of military importance. It has several 
churches, in a rude style of architecture; but which 
have a picturesque aspect from the other side of the 
river.—But my horses are put to, four abreast, as gene- 


JUVENILES. 


5 

l 

rally in Russia; and I have at least seven hundred versts 
to make before reaching Brzesc-Litovsky, the frontier 
town o t Austrian Poland. At the inns I arrange my bed 
on a table, to guarantee myself as much as possible from 
vermin. 

Wilna, July 1.—Let no one who travels for instruc¬ 
tion or amusement, journey from Pskov to Wilna, distant 
about seven hundred versts. The country gets gradually 
more open as I approach the confines of White Russia. 
Here I found wood and tillage more agreeably blended. 
I took a sketch of Sebesch, singularly situated on a small 
peninsula, and connected by a very narrow tongue of 
land, nearly in the midst of a considerable lake. The 
first station from Pskov, I fell in with an officer who 
had been wounded in an action with one of Napoleon’s 
generals: “Vos blessures, j’espere, ne sont pas conside¬ 
rables,” said I. “ Peu de chose,” he replied, in ill 
humour. “ C’est une vilaine nation, que cette nation 
Allemande,” he added; “ et les Anglais pourquoi ne 
font-ils pas une descente en France ?” To which not 
being able to reply, I wished him well of his wounds, 
and jumped into my britska. The country got gradu¬ 
ally more open; and I was reminded of Cambridgeshire, 
in passing through some extensive fields of rye and 
wheat. I found the provisions bad and scanty; but was 
not a little surprised at finding the coffee and cream 


6 


hok^f: 


better than in England. I entered Russian Poland at 
Bratslav on the Dvina, a very broad stream, and which 
disembogues into the Baltic at Riga. Here I could not 
help reflecting on the scenes of carnage which were 
probably going on near its mouth, while I was quietly 
surveying the surrounding landscape. This roused my 
Latin muse, and she was brought to bed of some Latin 
hexameters. Sandy is the soil near Bratslav; but the 
Poles are more industrious than the Russians, and I 
saw them often at the plough. Here I noticed, for the 
first time, a few oaks blended with the birch and fir. 
The peasants’ houses are built a la Russe; though they 
are now and then thatched, which is not the case in the 
north of Russia. I will not dwell on the privations one 
has to encounter on this road. Black bread, a few eggs, 
and some tea which I provided, w r ere what I lived on 
for four or five days together. But he who cannot bear 
a Lacedaemonian diet for a short time, is not formed for 
travel. I had sad proofs of the miseries of war, on ap¬ 
proaching Wilna. Several French prisoners, many very 
young, lay wounded and groaning on the ground. I was 
assured the hospitals were overflowing with wounded 
Russians. As Napoleon has been successful northward, 
it is not improbable he may employ one of his wings to 
attack Grodno, where the principal Russian magazines 
are. This makes me anxious to get on neutral ground, 


JUVENILES. 


7 


which I shall not do till I reach Bi zesc-Litovsky, distant 
three hundred and fifty versts. A day of violent rain 
hindered me from rambling in the environs of Wilna; 
but I strolled to the market-place, and saw the town- 
hall, a building in good taste, with Roman doric front 
and pediment. The principal church has also a hex- 
astyle doric portico; but the materials are brick and 
plaster only. The streets are narrow, ill-paved, and 
winding; and every thing reminds me I am no longer 
in Russia. At a picture-dealer’s, I saw a good sketch, 
by Paul Veronese, and one or two other tolerable 
pictures. 

Brzesc-Litovsky, July 7.—At length I have reached 
the last town in Russian Poland, by the direct road one 
thousand three hundred and fifty versts from St. Peters- 
burgh; but as I made a circuit by Narva, I must have 
made one thousand four hundred and fifty versts at 
least: sandy roads, Jewish villany, and difficulty of 
getting horses, being what I had to contend with. Jews 
swarm in this part of Poland; intolerable filth, and 
cunning furtive eyes, are the sure diagnostics of these 
Israelites. On leaving Wilna, where the charges were 
exorbitant, the road lay through very extensive fields of 
rye and wheat, both of finer growth than in Britain, 
The landscape improved still more about Slonim; the 
firs too were of finer size than in Russia. 


8 


HOR^E 


July 10.—This day I crossed a bridge, and entered 
the Austrian territory. I quitted Russia with but few 
agreeable recollections, save some kindnesses received, 
and duly appreciated, at Moscow. I have been just 
informed that the French videttes are only thirty-five 
versts off; and a Jew has just told me, that an armistice 
has been signed between Alexander and Napoleon. Bad 
as my authority is, 1 am inclined to believe him in the 
present crisis. 

Cracow, July 14.—I thought I should never extricate 
my carriage from the quagmire of Jews on the frontiers; 
this, however, I effected at last, by paving the way with 
a few ducats. On entering Galicia, the road lay for 
miles through one field of corn. The houses of the 
peasants are built much as in Russia, but rather neater; 
and they are sometimes plastered without. The farming 
classes I found cheerful and comfortable. I met, never¬ 
theless, more beggars than in Russia, wretched objects; 
and some were suffering from the plica Polonica , a hor¬ 
rible malady, and peculiar to Poland. The approach to 
a village was always announced by a wooden crucifix, 
or effigy of the tutelar saint, as large as life, in the same 
material. The country hitherto, from St. Petersburg!], 
has been quasi one dead flat; but some miles before 
reaching Cracow, I gradually gained the summit of a 
hill, crowned with firs, where the majestic Carpathian 


9 


/ 

JUVENILES. 

I 

mountains burst all at once on my view. A rich valley 
lay below, through which the Vistula was flowing, on 
the whitest sand. I had not seen so splendid a sight 
since leaving the Taurida, some months before. Cracow 
makes a picturesque appearance, owing to its multitude 
of walls and towers, many of which are crumbling with 
age. Its population is greatly diminished. In the fif¬ 
teenth century it contained fifty thousand inhabitants; 
at present it has but twenty-two thousand. The cathe¬ 
dral is gothic; but much spoiled by additions in a vile 
taste. I visited the tombs of the kings of Poland; 
among them, of Casimir and St. Stanislaus. The latter 
is of silver, supported by angels, and it stands in the 
centre of the church. As I went up to the castle, I 
noticed a monument to the Virgin; the propriety of 
paying her due reverence was inculcated by these 
verses: 

Virginis intactae ciim prseteris ante figuram, 

Praetereundo cave ne taceatur A.ve ! 

I was pleased with the church of the Franciscans. 
The stalls of the choir are richly inlaid with mother of 
pearl. Here are many portraits of saints, male and 
female, each with Latin verses of the same calibre as 
those above quoted. The whole city bears proofs of 
great antiquity; and I noticed a tomb in the cathedral, 
dated A. D. 1080. 


10 


HORiE 


Olmutz, July 19.—I regretted not having visited the 
celebrated salt-mines, near Cracow; but was consoled 
at hearing, that so many smoky tapers have been burned 
therein, that their splendour is much obscured. This 
place is twenty-six German miles from Cracow; and 
the road thither winds continually through the defiles of 
the Carpathian mountains. It is a continued ascent to 
the first station, which is on the summit of a very high 
hill, whence I saw Cracow in the vale below, backed by 
the Carpathians in all their grandeur. I shall never 
forget the effect of an approaching storm, from this 
point. A partial silvery gleam lighted a portion of the 
landscape; the rest was obscured, but not so much so 
as to hinder several of the peaks from being discernible. 
The thunder rolled in loud peals, while the lightning 
glared on the towers of Cracow. Here I met some 
Austrian soldiers, with their baggage waggons, wrapping 
themselves in their large white mantles, against the ap¬ 
proaching storm. I wished for the pencil and hand of 
Salvator Rosa. It was at Olmutz that Lafayette was 
imprisoned, before the French revolution. At Teschen 
I met an Englishman who had served under Prince 
Biron. He told me news, which I can hardly believe; 
though where Buonaparte is concerned, 1 can almost 
think any thing possible in the political world: namely, 
that peace was signed, and that the terms were, that 


) 


JUVENILES. 11 

Russia, Prussia, and France should declare war against 
Austria and England. At another station, I met an 
Irish colonel, in the Austrian service. He told me it 
was his opinion, that it was the fault of England, that 
the Austrians were unsuccessful in the last campaign, 
because she refused a loan to the emperor, unless a plan 
for the campaign were to be chalked out at the Horse 
Guards, and Mack appointed to conduct it; of whom, 
the English, he added, entertained a high opinion, but 
whom the Austrians held in disrepute. The army, he 
said, in which he served, was never in higher condition; 
and the emperor could bring four hundred and fifty 
thousand men, well equipped, into the field. 1 must 
say, the discipline of the Austrian troops appeared to 
me admirable. Their helmets d Vantique, their white 
uniforms, gave them a martial air, which I rarely saw 
elsewhere equalled. The mountains, often fir-clad, had 
now much the aspect of the higher mountains in Wales. 
I found the valleys in high cultivation, and adorned 
with nearly all the fruit and forest trees known in Europe. 
The city has a strong fortress, and numerous garrison. 
I visited the principal church, where I heard a full 
band perform bad music. The houses are plastered 
white. Most of the towns have a large square, with 
arcades, in the centre of which stands the chief church. 
The roads, though occasionally repaired, are worse than 


i 


12 


IlOIl/E 


in Russia. Nothing can conquer the phlegm of the 
German postilions. Give a Russian isvoschik a few 
more copecks, and he will drive you full gallop. 

Briinn, July 21.—Charming is the road from Olmutz 
to this town. The country is highly cultivated, and 
more beautiful than in England; the fields not being, as 
with us, divided into squares and parallelograms. Till¬ 
age and gardening cannot well be better understood 
than in the environs of Briinn. The great mass of the 
people appear industrious, and they live at a cheap rate; 
but their morals, I was told, with regard to the sex, are 
very relaxed. The Augarten and Shitrovsky are en¬ 
chanting public walks. I perambulated the field of 
Austerlitz, and flung myself on the bed where Napoleon 
slept after the battle. I noticed an avenue of lime and 
cherry trees, which had not been spared by the artilleries 
of the two enemies. I attended a parade of the troops 
under the immense fortress of the Spielberg; a bastille 
of redoubtable celebrity, where several Italians were 
confined, whose sins were a too spirited patriotism. Of 
the Austrian prisoners, I was told Mack was one. I 
quitted Briinn at night, the full moon in perfect splen¬ 
dour. In a few hours, “ profnndum Danuhium bibam .” 
But St. Stephen’s spire is in the midst of the landscape; 
and I trace the Danube rolling his mighty waters. I 
enter Vienna on the 24th of July, having been on the 


JUVENILES. 


13 


road a month all but a day: and after having performed 
a journey of a long two thousand English miles. 

END OF THE JOURNAL. 


My souvenirs of the south of Russia are among the 
most agreeable in the whole extent of my travels. Had 
not a nearly fatal malady seized me at Odessa, I would 
have visited the island of Achilles, the classic celebrity 
of which has been so well illustrated by Clarke, though, 
like me, he did not visit it. I would have hired a small 
lodging, within sight of the Course of Achilles, and 
sharpened my appetite by a gallop on that singular reef 
of sand, before breakfast. The most interesting spot 
that I found in the south of Russia, was certainly Pere- 
kop, the ancient Taphrae. The ditch is of immense an¬ 
tiquity, and I walked on its mounds, now nearly shape¬ 
less, for an hour. I shall never forget the view of that 
arm of the sea of Asoph, called, time immemorial, the 
Putrid Sea . Whether from some peculiar state of the 
atmosphere, or from some marsh miasmata refracting 
the light, it had exactly the colour of raspberry-cream; 
or, in other words, a pinkish white. Herodotus, in 

9 

his Melpomene, mentions the intrenchment of Taphrae 
(obviously a Greek word) as an ancient work of the 



14 


H0R4-: 


Scythians, who dug it from sea to sea, about the same 
time that their army returned from the conquest of 
Media, which was then subject to Cyaxares. We can 
then get at the date of the first excavation of the in- 
trenchment, which will be about the third or fourth year 
of the thirty-sixth Olympiad, or six hundred and thirty- 
three years before Christ. Strabo also alludes to this 
great work; and from him we may infer, that it was at 
first nothing but a deep ditch, with the earth piled high 
on either side; and so it probably remained, till one 
Asander was named king of the Bosporus, by Augustus 
Caesar. Asander, according to Strabo, flanked it with 
stone, and fortified it with equi-distant towers. I saw 
slight vestiges of stone-work in the ditch, but not the 
least traces of the towers. It is most likely the oldest 
military intrenchment remaining , of which we have 
record, bearing, as it does, the age of at least two thou¬ 
sand four hundred and fifty years. In spite of these 
testimonies to its remote antiquity, I was surprised at 
finding that my late respected friend, Major Rennell, in 
his analysis of the geography of Herodotus, was inclined 
to assign the first formation of this rampart to the 
Genoese. That they repaired it, and added to its depth, 
I think more than probable; but surely the above-cited 
authorities are sufficient to establish the remoter anti¬ 
quity of the first ditch. Baron de Tott, who, like my- 


15 




) 


JUVENILES. 

self, had been on the spot, shows great classic ignorance, 
in asserting that “ nothing points out the era of its con¬ 
struction.” Had he referred to his Herodotus and Strabo, 
he might have gleaned what I have done, and certified 
as I have done, within a short period, the epoch of its 
formation. My late friend, Major Rennell, thought “ the 
works now existing beyond the ability of the community 
to whom the peninsula belonged.” But we have several 
testimonies of the surprising energies, developed not only 
by the ancient Scythians, but also by their descendants 
the Huns, when their military interests were at stake. 
And who has not heard of what Milton calls “ the popu¬ 
lous north ?” The testimony of Herodotus respecting 
this ditch, or rampart, is, to my apprehension, as satis¬ 
factory as what he relates respecting the embankments 
on the Nile, by the early Egyptian kings. I passed this 
celebrated dike twice with great interest, in my entrance 
to, and return from the Taurida, in the autumn of 1806. 

My late friend, Dr. Clarke, of well-earned travelling 
celebrity, gives in the first volume of his travels, a view 
of certain tumuli , which he found on the banks of the 
Don, and which he calls, from what authority I know 
not, the Altars of Alexander. That the hero raised 
altars, to mark the limits of his progress in various parts 
of the world, we know from good authorities. But who 
. ever heard of Alexander having penetrated to the Don ? 


16 


HORJE 


Previous to the conquest of Thebes, he went as far 
north as the Danube; but we cannot discover that lie 
ever passed that river, when he made an irruption on 
the territories of the Triballi, in his first essay of arms. 
What led Clarke into the error was, I conceive, as fol¬ 
lows: the river Jaxartes, now the Amu, was called by 
the natives of the country where it rises Sills, and by 
the companions of Alexander, Tanais , which every body 
knows was also the ancient name of the Russian Don. 
The confusion of the two names induced Clarke, in his 
haste, to assign tumuli , or altars, to Alexander, on the 
margin of the Don, where he assuredly never was. 

Rennell, in his interesting sketch of the march of 
Darius Hystaspes through Scythia, conducts the Persian 
army in their way back, not many versts from the spot 
where Clarke saw these tumuli. Might we not with 
plausibility presume that they were erected in com¬ 
memoration of some Scythian chieftains, who may have 
fallen in battle with the Persian monarch ? If this mv 
surmise be not well founded, at least we may believe 
that they were of Tartar origin, similar mounds having 
been observed in various parts of the immense steppes 
that separate China from Russia; it being fair to con¬ 
clude, that the Tartars and Huns imitated their Scythian 
ancestors, in this, as well as other particulars. Won¬ 
derful was the expedition, in spite of its want of complete 


17 






JUVENILES. 

success, of Darius Hystaspes in Scythia. He too, as 
well as Napoleon in our times, found himself in a dU 
lemma by penetrating too far. 

Rennell believes that Darius passed the Danube a 
little above Ismael ; thence he leads his army to Cherson 
by Bender ; thence by Taganrok, he traces the route of 
the Persian King to the confines of Saratov on the 
Volga; near which, we learn from Herodotus, that he 
erected a chain of fortresses. If within a hundred versts 
south of that town, any traveller should hereafter dis- 
cover a series of tumuli , I think they may with great 
probability, be assigned to Darius Hystaspes. He then 
leads him on his retreat, by Chopersk, to the environs 
ofVoronesh; thence he traces his route by the neigh¬ 
bourhood of Koursk and Tchernigov. He then conducts 
the Persian army to a pass in the Carpathian mountains, 
near the sources of the Dniester, which cannot be far 
from Lemberg; and then by the river Siret, he recon¬ 
ducts Darius to the bridge, which he threw over the 
Danube a few months before. I agree with the Major 
as to the general line of the route ; and if he has not hit 
the target in the bull’s eye, he has at least hit the 
target itself. If we compare attentively the Persian 
and French expeditions of Darius and Napoleon, (and 
I have read both Herodotus and Segur with care,) the 
triple palm of superiority in the justice of the motives, 


c 


18 


II OR/E 


in the conduct of* the array, and in foresight against 
unexpected disasters, must be triumphantly awarded to 
the Persian monarch, who must have had far greater 
difficulties to contend with, if we take into consideration 
how much less cultivated Scythia was in his times, than 
in those of Napoleon. 

Nothing is more surprising in the south of Russia, 
than the multitude of vast rivers which are so frequently 
met, a very inconsiderable tract separating each. I 
passed in two days, the Dnieper, the Ingouletz, the 
Bog, the Ingoul, and the Telingoul, near their mouths, 
in my journey from the Taurida to Odessa. Two of 
these may be called rivers of the first magnitude, and 
the others very considerable. The Bog is the ancient 
Hypanis. At four days’ journey from its embouchure, 
is the canton of Exampea, which Herodotus, the father 
of history, visited. The above distance will place this 
canton at, or very near, I think, a small village called 
Sokoli. He relates that he found there a fountain, of 
the same name as the canton in which it flows, and of 
such extraordinary bitterness, as to taint the waters of 
the Bog for the remainder of its course, and render them 
undrinkable. A dysentery which attacked me, on quit¬ 
ting the Taurida, made me abandon the project I had 
formed of searching for this singular fountain. Hero¬ 
dotus saw near it a bronze vase, of extraordinary size, 


JUVENILES. 


19 


and cast by the ancient Scythians. Very different from 
this fountain Exampea, were the waters of the Teams, 
a small river of Thrace, which pours thirty-eight copious 
springs from the living rock. Herodotus, in his Melpo¬ 
mene, states that Darius was so charmed with this 
river, that he encamped on its banks for three days, 
and that he ordered a column to be erected near the 
fountains, with the following inscription: “ The sources 
of the Teams furnish the best and purest water in 
the world. Darius, son of Hystaspes, the best and 
finest of men, King of the Persians, and of the 
whole earth, in his march against the Scythians, 
encamped on its banks.” The Persian kings were 
great amateurs of fine water. That of the Choaspes 
was the finest in their own dominions ; and one of the 
sovereigns never went on a campaign, without having 
its water boiled and bottled for his table. 



























































* 







: - 


. 


' 




























SCANDINAVIAN LEAVES 


OR, 

ABRIDGEMENT OF A JOURNAL 


A TOUR IN SCANDINAVIA, 


IN THE YEAH 1835. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The following pages form an abstract of a lengthy 
Journal, which I kept from day to clay, during a four 
months’ Tour in Sweden and Norway. It is true that 
I had some time left my youthful years behind me, 
when I visited those countries; but, as the Journal 
contains nothing scientific and profound, I thought 
proper to throw this abstract among my Horae Juveniles. 



A TOUR 


IN 


SCANDINAVIA. 


June 27, 1835.—Impelled by that powerful loco¬ 
motive engine, Curiosity, I embarked at the Custom* 
house stairs on board a steamer for Hamburgh. On 
gaining the mouth of the Thames, a contrary squall 
compelled the captain to weather it out in Lowestoff 
roads. We glided smoothly up the Elbe, and admired 
its right bank within a few miles of the city, studded 
with villas. I had been twice before in Hamburgh, 
and noticed with pleasure the great improvements 
which had taken place since my first visit in 1825. 

July 1.—I journeyed by one of the worst roads iu 
Europe, to Lubeck. The city of Hamburgh has long 
offered to his Majesty of Denmark to make a good road 
at its own cost; but the Court of Denmark has con¬ 
stantly refused its permission, afraid that the overween- 



24 


HOR M 


ing influence of Hamburgh would thereby crush the 
commerce of Kiel. The soil is deep and tolerably 
rich ; there is a good deal of rye in the fields ; I saw 
many roses in the gardens, but of inferior odour to the 
English. The four lofty spires which mark Lubeck, 
formerly one of the most important of the Hanseatic 
towns, are very striking. The churches are only of brick 
and plaster; but the statues of the Passion at the altar 
are of marble, and in good style. Behind the altar a 
series of puppets, moving by clock-work, came forth from 
a box, and nodded each to our Saviour. I passed through 
a wood of fine beech and oak, to Travemunde on the 
Baltic. It is the Margate of Hamburgh. The building 
at the baths is good, and set off with an agreeable prome¬ 
nade of poplars and limes. Here I played at a game.called 
Turkish billiards, very amusing for half an hour. Tra¬ 
vemunde, though not picturesque, is cheerful; and the 
weather is of Italian lustre. On the sands, a few feet 
from the sea, I unearthed a plant about half a foot high, 
with leaves of a pale green, and silvery underneath, 
armed with prickles like the holly. I saw also fields 
sown with a plant consisting of nothing but pods, very 
long and thin, shooting from a stiff stalk about four feet 
high, good fodder for cattle, as I was told. 

July 7.—After a steam-passage of eighteen hours, 1 
reached the Danish capital. At five A. M. I was on 


J U VENILES. 


25 


deck, and the rising sun was beaming on the chalk 
cliffs of Moen, close to which we passed. They are 
higher than those of Dover, crowned with beechen 
woods, and split into ravines. Not a ripple was on the 
Baltic, and the reflection of the white cliffs gave a 
silvery transparency to the water : 

“ The air was calm, and on the level brine 

Sleek Panopb with all her sisters played.” 

Well treated at the custom-house, and refreshed at 
the hotel in the large square of Copenhagen, after 
dinner, I drove to the obelisk erected by Count Bern- 
storff, and commemorating certain concessions made to 
the peasants by a king of Denmark half a century ago. 
It is surrounded bv four noble allegorical statues exe¬ 
cuted at Rome. 

July 9.—I walked in the Fredericsburgh, and Rosen- 
burg gardens. In the former I noticed a prodigious 
lime-tree. The Rosenburg palace, with its spires, is, 
though ill-finished, very picturesque. There I saw a 
service of plate, worked at Venice, and given by a grand 
duke of Tuscany; a tea and coffee-pot of pure gold ; a 
hunting-equipment, presented by Louis XIV.; a bridal 
box, given by Queen Anne to Prince George of Den¬ 
mark ; the diploma of civil law conferred by the Uni¬ 
versity of Cambridge on a king of Denmark; also the 


26 


HOR^E 


ermine robes, and silver thrones, in which the Danish 
sovereigns are crowned. The collection of medals is 
excellent. Here are coins from Canute, he who could 
not stop the tides, to the late king. Of the arms, I 
grasped a sword given by Charles XII. of Sweden to a 
Danish colonel; also one wielded by the great Gustavus 
Adolphus. I noticed at the Academy of Arts, some of 
the works of Thorwaldsen, which I had seen in his 
laboratory at Rome; among them a baptismal font, a 
present from the artist to a church in his native isle, 
Iceland. Who could imagine that so dreary a spot 
could give birth to a man destined to co-operate with 
Canova in the revival of Athenian elegance ? After 
dinner, I went to Charlottelund, a royal country seat, 
presenting nothing remarkable but a fine wood of oak 
and beech, within a hundred yards of the sea. 

July 10.—I visited the city palace, a pile with pro¬ 
digiously thick walls ; but which does no credit to the 
architect. You ascend one hundred and more steps to 
the picture-gallery. The collection is splendid: here 
is a remarkable picture, half by Van Eyck, the inventor 
of oil-painting, and half by Vandyck ; done probably 
by that great artist to show the progress that painting 
had made since the application of oil to the art. Here, 
too, is the Prophecy of Jonas, for which a king of Den¬ 
mark paid Salvator Rosa sixteen thousand rix-dollars. 


J UVENILES. 


27 

A rich portrait of Charles I. in his youth, by Vansomer; 
a Holy Family, by Giulio Romano; and Raphael’s 
Apothecary, by himself; are among the flowers of this 
numerous collection. The whole building must have 
cost a vast sum; for half of it, a better and more elegant 
might be easily imagined. 

July 11.—T rambled in the Botanic Garden, which I 
found small, and ill-kept; and saw, at the Academy, 
portraits of several Danish professors, done with that 
hardness of style peculiar to the artists of the north. I 
went in the afternoon to the Deer Park, six miles from 
Copenhagen. It is about twelve miles in circumference, 
and abounding with old beeches; two of which I 
measured, and found one twenty-three feet in circuit, 
another, and an oak, eighteen. 

July 12.—I went to the New-Frue Church, built 
with remarkable solidity. The exterior is bad, but the 
interior made ample amends; presenting, on each side, 
a soubassement pierced with seven arches; each pilaster 
supports two Greek Doric columns, with the systyle in- 
tercolumniation. The organ has a mahogany blind, 
instead of gilt pipes as with us. Six statues, by Thor- 
waldsen, stand facing the pilasters on each side. A 
statue of our Saviour, by the same artist, surmounts the 
altar. The sermon was delivered extempore to an 
attentive congregation. The churches at Copenhagen 


28 


hoka: 


are, in general, of displeasing style; but I must praise 
Saint Nicolay’s tower, built in 1529. It has a Baby¬ 
lonish grandeur about it, rising very high, and propped 
by a sort of sui generis buttresses. The city is traversed 
in many parts by canals, like Venice. 

July 13.—I visited the Fresler Church, paved with 
deal, and with a vast nave. The design is good, but 
not the materials. In the evening, I went to Frederics- 
dal, nine miles from Copenhagen, fringed with beech 
woods, feathering to a lake about three miles in dia¬ 
meter. The place is situated on an isthmus between 
two lakes, and has capabilities for a park, fully equal to 
any thing in England. The Exchange is a building in 
the old Dutch style. Here I saw r an old picture, repre¬ 
senting Tycho Brahe receiving a gold collar from Chris¬ 
tian II.; also, at the royal gallery, Tycho’s housekeeper, 
a good characteristic portrait in the manner of Holbein. 
I walked to the port, which is fine. A solid wooden 
bridge is thrown across to the dock-yard, where I saw 
about seven sail of the line under jury-masts. Another 
wooden jetty separates the royal from the commercial 
docks. The arrangement of the shops and magazines 
at Copenhagen is about instar Lisle, and the larger 
towns of the Low Countries. Bad pavement is pretty 
general. The water is indifferent. The beeves and 
horses are very good. The dogs are spirited, and I 


JUVENILES. 


29 

noticed several fine setters. The sheep are inferior. 
The cauliflowers, potatoes, and strawberries are very 
good. Agricultural implements are a full century be¬ 
hind England. The roads round the capital are bad. 
In Jutland, where the communication is not active, it 
would be useless waste of money to spend much in 
roads ; but in Zealand, which is not large, half a million 
of rix-dollars might well be spent thereupon. 

July 15.—I visited Count Moltke’s Gallery. Two 
Ruysdaels, three Hobbimas, and two children’s head by 
Kreuze, were the flowers of the collection. There were 
some by Jordaens, a painter I never liked, having all 
the coarseness of Rubens, without his fire. 

July 16.—1 find the Danes stout men, with physiog¬ 
nomies differing but little from our own. I doubt 
whether there be any country in Europe less interesting 
to the physiologist than Denmark. The Flora, however, 
is interesting; witness that service of porcelain, exe¬ 
cuted by the Russian Catherine’s order, preserved at 
the Rosenburgh Palace, whereon each individual plant 
of Denmark, with its seeds, leaves, and flowers, is finely 
executed on porcelain, by Danish artists, on a ware, 
however, very inferior to our Worcester. I visited the 
Repository of Northern Antiquities, where I saw 
hatchets made of silex by the ancient Cimbri, before 
metals were known in the Chersonese. They are at 


30 


HORv^ 


least two thousand five hundred years old. In an 
adjoining chamber I observed several ornaments of 
gold, and utensils in copper, known before iron , by the 
ancient Cimbri. I remarked an altar-piece, with bas- 
reliefs, of the epoch of Canute; a coat of mail, worn by 
the father of Margaret of Waldemar ; also many ancient 
iron weapons, but of small interest. I expected to find 
some interesting Roman inscriptions, about the epoch of 
Caius Marius ; but I only saw one, and, as I thought, 
of doubtful authority. The most striking features of 
Denmark are about a dozen small lakes, so well set off 
by beech and birch woods, as to present the finest 
materials for parks. I found at Copenhagen no ill 
treatment; on which I may well congratulate myself, 
the Danes doubtless not forgetting the two bombard¬ 
ments they sustained not many years since: 

- “ raanet alta in raente repostus 

Nelsoni assultus, captaeque injuria classis.” 

A political question struck me the other day, whether 
or no, seeing the increasing preponderance of Russia, 
the plan effected, five centuries ago, by Margaret of 
Waldemar, called the northern Semiramis, of uniting 
the three crowns, would not be again desirable, making 
Copenhagen or Stockholm the capital, and governing 
the other two by resident viceroys ? It is, however, 



JUVENILES. 


31 


probable that many national prejudices would obstruct 
this union, if perchance the diplomatic heads of Europe 
should hereafter deem it advisable and feasible. 

Farewell, then, land of the Canutes, both hardy and 
wise! Farewell, land of the northen Semiramis, and 
of Shakspearean Hamlet! To-morrow I embark for 
Scandinavia, and without a wish of revisiting thy level 
shores. 

Gothenburgh, July 18.—After a passage, whereon I 
could neither criticise the vessel, nor the general agree¬ 
ableness of the passengers, where the stomach was 
neither offended by nausea, nor the nose by stenches, I 
set my foot in Scandinavia, after a passage of sixteen 
hours from Copenhagen. The sky was Italian, which 
set off Elsineur, and Hamlet’s garden, finely fringed 
with woods. Our approach to Sweden was enlivened 
by the passing of at least twenty vessels, outward bound : 
among them, three or four Americans. The port would 
be faultless, had it not two dangerous rocky islets, on 
which many ships have foundered. Hail, Scandinavia ! 
Though I have wandered among twelve nations, oft 
have I turned a wistful eye to thy romantic shores 1 
Hail, land of copper, of iron, of vast lakes, of intermina¬ 
ble forests, granite rocks, and limpid waterfalls! Land 
of a Gustavus Vasa, whose name would have shone in 
the blazonry of Greece ; of that Arctoi lucida stella poli , 


32 


HORiE 


Christina, who, though somewhat vain and capricious, 
showed a versatile and accomplished mind; of the 
Alexander of the north, whose achievements rivalled the 
Macedonians, till madness seized him, a little before 
the battle of Pultowa; of a Gustavus Adolphus, who 
united the duties of a private station to the talents of a 
profound statesman and a great general; who pushed 
this triple merit higher than any other individual, save 
probably Xenophon. 

Gothenburgh rather disappointed me. There is 
something fine, however, in its principal canal, and 
paved streets on each side. Working people here, with 
naked feet, are common. Strata of granite, by no means 
high, rise in the environs, from rich pastures, inter¬ 
spersed with fields of barley and oats. I walked in the 
evening to the summit of the rocks, near two miles from 
the town. The scene was quite Scandinavian, and set 
off by a blood-shot setting sun, which had the form of a 
broken vase. Here are several small villas, with trees, 
but not of fine growth. 

July 20.—After having hired an interpreter, and pur¬ 
chased a Swedish carriage, I strolled to a small lake 
three miles from the town, surrounded by meadows, 
where the haymakers were busy. It was a lively scene ; 
single horses with small carts, were driving to and fro 
with great rapidity. The barns are spacious, and red- 


JUVENILES. 


33 


pitched. They mount the hay to the loft by means of 
a rope, which two bullocks below made move with a 
rope in a pulley fixed to a post. The hay, about two 
English cocks, then ascended a slide composed of fir 
trees, descending from the loft. 

July 21.—Quitting Gothenburgh, I followed a road 
by the side of the Gotha, whose limpid and quiet waters 
traversed rich meadows, till approaching Lilia Edits. 
Here the Gotha forms a cataract, with ten times a 
greater volume of water than the Rhine at Lauffenburg; 
but the height is inconsiderable. I reached Trolheetta, 
at twelve p. m., fifty miles from Gothenburgh, and found 
there an elegant inn. 

July 22.—I visited the Golden Fall , the second and 

most striking of the Trolhaetta cataracts; of which there 

are eight, forming a shoot of a hundred feet and more. I 

passed the sluices in a boat, that gigantic work, which 

rivals the Caledonian canal. They talk of adding next 

year an additional depth and width of two feet to this 

canal. Below the locks, the Gotha assumes a lake-like 

aspect of great depth and width. Here the grounds of 

a Swedish Baron descend to the lake, forming a fine 

woody am phi-theatre. The atmosphere has a silvery 

brilliance, which I do not recollect to have seen in any 

other country. Several Swedish parties of pleasure are 

arriving; at least a dozen boats are descending the 

L> 


34 


HORiE 


sluices ; and I passed a cloudless day in eyeing the falls 
from nearly every point of view. I prefer them on the 
whole to all others, which I have hitherto seen. 1 find 
that Trolhcetta means the witches ’ hats. In Trol we 
may perhaps find the Pictish root of our word Trull; 
in hcetta , we easily recognise hat. Were then the 
witches, who figure in our mythology, of Scandinavian 
origin ? I rather think they were; and very likely im¬ 
ported into England by the Danes and Norwegians, 
during their predatory excursions. 

July 22.—Leaving Trolhsetta, and its aqueous roar, I 
arrived at the residence of Mr. Lloyd, of bear-hunting 
celebrity. He had a wolf chained in his court, and 
several Swedish dogs. His dwelling overlooks a fine 
reach of the Gotha. The country now assumed much 
the character of the environs of Basle. The precipices 
to the left were grotesquely set off with birch, firs, 
beech, poplars, and alders. After a league, this scenery 
disappeared; and I entered an extensive plain, which 
preserved, for thirty miles, a most uninteresting character.. 
But considering the scanty population, and their small 
resources, I was surprised at the general cultivation. 
In my journal, I will always reduce the Swedish miles 
into English. On approaching Lidkoping, I traversed 
a wood of magnificent firs. The houses here are of 
red-pitched deals. 


JUVENILES. 


35 


July 23.—Yet Lidkoping has a spacious square, with 
a church in the centre. On passing a bridge, the 
Wenner Lake burst upon my view, ninety miles in 
length, and forty-four in its widest part. Looking N.E. 
I could descry no land. The road now winded through 
a forest of firs of inferior growth. We started a snake 
basking in the middle of the road, perhaps the Coluber 
Cher sea, peculiar to Sweden. The sky was cloudless, 
and the heat equal to that of the Milanese. I gained a 
higher plateau, and had a hill to my right, almost the 
fac-simile of Leckhampton, near Cheltenham. Falkop- 
ing, where I now am, is thirty-seven miles from Lid¬ 
koping. They served me here an omelet, better than 
any in France. The horses were cruelly stung by three 
species of flies : the smallest, our common forest; the 
second, of double the size; the last of great malignity, 
as large as a wasp, and streaked alternately with blackish 
and yellowish scales. They buzzed terror into the 
horses’ ears. I buzzed in return the line of Virgil: 

“ asper, acerba sonans,” &c. to these plurimee pestes 
volitantes. I was bayed by passport officers at every 
station, requiring my wherefrom and whereto. In other 
respects, the travelling is agreeable. I went at the rate 
of full six miles an hour, the charge two English shil¬ 
lings for about ten English miles, including good pay 
for the driver. But a delay of about two hours every 


36 


IIORvE 


day, is occasioned by the necessity of sending for the 
horses from the fields. I went after dinner to the yard, 
“ where the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,” and 
noticed a tomb elaborately cut, and horizontally laid, 
dated 1602. The church-yard w T as surrounded with 
ash-trees. 

July 24.—On leaving Falkoping, I traversed, for 
twenty miles, much the same character of road, as the 
preceding day. On gaining the brow of a hill, the vast 
Wetter lake burst upon the view. Its banks are far 
more striking than those of the Wenner. Its southern 
extremity presents a long straight strand, of about three 
miles. The hills that skirt it to the east, are very pic- 
turesquely broken ; but none, I should imagine, exceed 
six hundred feet in height. Jonkoping stands at its 
southern extremity, and is a dull town, with a spacious 
street, however, of a full mile in length; and others, 
with canals and bridges thrown over a river from the 
Wetter lake. Lilacs thrive well in this part of Sweden, 
so do strawberries. Gooseberries are as yet very small, 
as with us in May. No potatoes are yet ripe. I could 
find no other vegetables at the inns, but small peas 
boiled in their pods. Junipers abound in the woods; 
their berries are sent in great quantity to Holland 
annually for distillation. I gathered some bilberries, 
twice the size of ours in Britain. 


JUVENILES. 


37 


July 25.—After passing through a woody tract of 

oaks, sycamores, alders, aspens, firs, willows, hazels, and 

♦ 

birch, which last grew in twisted and picturesque 
shapes, I reached Grenna, overlooking the lake, and 
immediately opposite the Bezon island, which stretches 
from north to south, nine miles in length, and is of a 
sabre form. The sun has such power, that I give credit 
to the assertion of its rays being at times so strongly 
concentrated, as to set fire to the Swedish forests. Ther¬ 
mometer in the shade 75. 

July 27.—Exquisite were the views of the Wetter, 
sometimes fully expanding, sometimes partially con¬ 
cealed by woody mounds. Soon after leaving it, I saw 
grease sweating from a murderer’s gibbet, who had been 
a farmer’s servant; and having intrigued with his 
master’s wife, leagued with her in poisoning her hus¬ 
band. The punishment was amputation of the right 
hand, decapitation, and suspension of the body. After 
dining at Molby, which has several saw-mills in a noisy 
river, I reached Norkoping. 

July 28.—The Swartsjon, or Blackwater river, in the 
environs of this town, flows in a gully, presenting much 
the same features as the Dart near Totness. Norkoping 
is the Swedish Manchester, and has at least twelve 
thousand inhabitants. The streets are rectilinear, spa¬ 
cious, and clean. Most of the manufactories are of 


88 


HORiE 


red-pitched deals, and placed at almost every possible 
angle in the cataracts of the Blackwater, which, in 
some places, is more than one hundred feet deep. 
Never did I see such a confusion of deals, wheels, and 
foaming waters. The King has lately thrown an iron 

bridge over the natural fall; he has also built a large 

/ 

magazine for wool, and they are busied in driving piles 
for a new bridge. 

July 29.—This is the first gray day I have met in 
Sweden, and the air is much freshened. I am now at 
Nykoping, forty miles from Norkoping. The river 
Maeland forms here a cataract, with two or three mills 
in the stream. I passed a small lake very like Virginia 
water. It is now five weeks since I left the longest day 
in London ; and here at half-past nine, I can see to 
read. 

July 30.—Firs and birch growing grotesquely from 
fissures in the rocks, marked the road to Sodertelje, 
which rivalled Macadam’s in excellence. I passed five 
lakes of extraordinary beauty. The rocks seldom rise 
above a hundred feet. Jn one part, the firs assumed a 
true Scandinavian grandeur ; I measured one, and found 
it nine feet in circumference. Willows grow finer than 
in England. I have now travelled four hundred and 
fifty miles from Gothenburgh, three hundred of which 
may be said to present little or no interest. Never did 


JUVENILES. 


39 


I traverse a country with fewer birds than Sweden 
shows in the summer. In vain did I listen for the song 
of the motacilla Suecica , whose notes surpass those of 
the nightingale. Two eagles, three or four goshawks, 
many magpies and carrion-crows, a very few skylarks, 
and two birds with greenish plumage, about as large as 
woodcocks, were all I observed. 

July 31.—I arrived at Fittje. “ It is, indeed, gentle¬ 
men, a nasty place, a very nasty little place,” said 
Gustavus the assassinated, laughing one day to his 
courtiers. It is, however, since his time, much im¬ 
proved; for instead of being a paltry inn, thatched 
without, I found it with a larger range of stables than I 
had yet seen in Sw T eden. The lightning, three days 
before, had struck two churches in Stockholm ; and I 
saw proofs of its force, in a birch nine feet in circum¬ 
ference, which had been shivered by the storm. Its 
splinters were strewed twenty yards around; and one 
had uprooted a fir of eight inches in diameter. Quitting 
the carriage, I contemplated this fulgurous devastation 
for five minutes. I passed five lakes of great picturesque 
beauty; two of which, I saw, to the right and to the 
left, from an isthmus. In the centre of one, a huge 
tower-like rock arose. The approach to Stockholm is 
as wild as the neighbourhood of Johnny Grott’s. At 
last I reached the Scandinavian capital, after a journey 


40 


HOJLE 


of four hundred and seventy miles, performed in ten 
days. 

August 4.—Of Stockholm, a omnia jam vulgata ,” I 
shall then be brief in my notes. The palace, with its 
slanting terraces, and bronze lions of Persepolitan 
grandeur, surpasses my expectations. The apartments 
of the Crown-prince, in the entresol, are elegant. But 
there are not in the whole palace twenty pictures worth 
notice. 

August 5.—I visited the ruins of the chief church, 
struck a few days since by lightning. Immense sheets 
of liquefied copper were piled below. Another church 
presents a splendid gilt pulpit, and good Ascension 
subject at the altar. I went to Drottingliolm, the Ver¬ 
sailles of Sweden. The gardens are adorned with 
bronzes taken from Germany, in the wars of Gustavus 
Adolphus. -Here are ill-painted heads of Charles XII. 
and his generals. The present king has manifested 
some spirit in the establishment of schools, with regard 
to the fine arts but little. These old and ill-painted 
pictures might be turned to good account, in ministering 
to the creation of a large historical picture, representing 
the Swedish hero at the battle of Narva, and surrounded 
by his generals. There exists now no artist in Sweden, 
who could execute such a work even tolerably. The 
lake Meeler almost bathes the walls of the palace. A 


JUVENILES. 


il 


fisherman showed me here ten of the largest pike I 
ever saw. 

August 6.—I walked in the evening to the Tier- 
garden, a public walk abounding with summer retreats, 
and commanding an imposing view of Stockholm, and 
the endless windings of the Maeler. The extraordinary 

transparency of the air and waters made me prefer this 

* 

to all suburban promenades I ever beheld. 

August 7.—I devoted a beautiful evening to Haga, 
and returned disappointed; for Gustavus III. made 
here nature worse, by overplanting, and forming cockney 
islands, round which the waters of the lake stagnate like 
kitchen-refuse. Ulricsdale now serves as a naval hos¬ 
pital. Near it I saw several avenues of limes, so covered 
with blossoms, as to scent the air far around. I visited 
the mansion of a wealthy brewer, and rambled in his 
garden, which presented a good show of native and 
exotic flowers. The gardener assured me that melons 
and cucumbers would ripen in Sweden without glass- 
frames. The arrangement was scientific, as if Linnaeus 
had surveyed the work, whose bust was in the green¬ 
house. Eskilstuna is the Swedish Sheffield, and I saw 
from that place beautifully enamelled steel. 

August 12.—Yesterday, I quitted Stockholm, im¬ 
pressed with a considerable idea of its civilization and 
resources. Most of the streets are well pierced; the 


42 


HORiE 


walls of the houses are much thicker than with us. In 
the larger mansions are many rooms opening en suite, 
and frequently embellished instar Paris. The best 
bath I ever had in my life was here, which I paid ten 
English pence. But the glory of Stockholm is the 
Maeler, which, like a watery Briareus, throws his hundred 
arms round the city, furnishing a port where all the 
navy of England might ride. I bade farewell to the 
novemgemininsular capital, and reached the residence 
of the English ambassador, twenty-six miles from 
Stockholm, laid out in striking gardens, in the days of 
Christina. After the pleasure of dining with the Envoy, 
I reached Upsala. 

August 13.—I have just visited the university, and its 
grove, which has a building with a Doric front, contain¬ 
ing the Natural History Museum. The conchological 
department is rich; there is also a full collection of the 
Scandinavian serpents, in spirits. 1 saw two or three 
specimens of the Gordius , which I take to be the same 
as the Vena Medinensis. It is pretty frequent in the 
marshes of the Gulf of Bothnia, not thicker than a horse 
hair, and about nine or ten inches long. It inserts itself 
in the skin, and causes sharp pain. I remember, at 
St. Petersburgh, having seen a Frenchman, who had 
suffered from one of these capillary worms. I handled 
at least one hundred phials, hoping to find a specimen 


JUVENILES. 


• 43 


of an insect, still more extraordinary, and only known 
on the shores of the Gulf of Bothnia. It is sni generis , 
and unique. I had heard it described as about the third 
of an inch in size. It is carried by the wind; and with 
its legs, or rather fangs, which are turned inwards, in¬ 
serts itself into the flesh of the peasants, and buries 
itself therein. They rid themselves of this pest, by 
applying a poultice of curds, which is a bait for the 
insect. The pain it occasions equals a sharp tic doulou¬ 
reux ; hence its name, Furia infernalis. I was disap¬ 
pointed at not finding a satisfactory specimen of it, 
among a hundred and more phials, which I handled. 
For there is a sublimity about it, no one knowing 
whether it be oviparous or viviparous; it being only 
known on the shores of the Bothnian gulf, and it being 
wafted to the faces of the peasants by the wind, where 
it finds its grave. 

August 14. — The cathedral is the noblest pile in 
Sweden. I was pleased with the monument of Linne, 
erected by his disciples, a few years since; also with the 
elegant tomb of Archbishop Menander; but especially 
with two sarcophagi of porphyry and serpentine, exe¬ 
cuted in a grand and antique style. The new Carolina 
Library is spacious and solid; but to my eye, of dis¬ 
agreeable architecture. The books, to the amount of 
one hundred and thirty thousand volumes, are about to 


44 


h ora: 


be removed to it. The intendant civilly showed me, in 
the old library, a copy of my own University, which I 
sent to Upsala five years before. I did not forget 
Gustavus the Third’s two vast chests, which, in six 
years’ time, Pandora herself is to open. This Blue- 
beardish bequest has often spurred my curiosity, which 
naturally seizes the probability of papers illustrative of, 
and perhaps vindicating the revolution of 1772; the pre¬ 
mature divulging of which might probably have impli¬ 
cated several individuals, unless the lapse of fifty years 
shall have neutralized their guilt, by laying them in the 
grave. Am I right, or wrong ? Pandora, I appeal to 
thee for the solution. Gustavus, without deserving the 
title of Great, showed himself a man of energy, by 
effecting a revolution without spilling a drop of blood. 
If the factions of the Hats and the Caps placed him, 
as sovereign, in a sort of neutralized position, was he 
blamable in stepping forward to assert the rights of the 
monarchical power, as they' had been for so long a 
period established in Sweden ? Could he, without com¬ 
promising fatally his royal attributes, pull off with his 
right hand, his hat to the Hats , and with his left, his 
cap to the Caps ? What he did, would have merited 
the applause of Machiavelli, had they been cotempora¬ 
ries ; and it must be confessed, both by his enemies and 
his adherents, that he showed a talent and decision in 


JUVENILES. 


45 


this affair, which Charles X. of France, placed of late in 
a nearly similar dilemma, endeavoured, but was unable 
to imitate. Just before the fatal bullet struck him, he 
meditated placing himself at the head of the coalition 
against republican France. It is not easy to speculate 
on the probable result, had he done so; but of this we 
may be certain, that the French generals would have 
had a much harder Gordian knot to untwist than they 
had without him ; for, ever since the days of Gustavus 
Adolphus, the first drum that has sounded in Sweden, 
has always made a powerful impression on the ears of 
the European cabinets. 

August 14.—On quitting Upsala, I traversed a cham¬ 
paign country, resembling Cambridgeshire, for about 
twenty miles; and presently entered a forest of inferior 
firs, which continued uninterruptedly for fifty miles. 
The woods then opened a little to the left, when I heard 
a loud murmur, and presently saw clouds of mist ascend, 
from the Elfcarleby cataracts, formed by the river Dal, 
within twelve miles of its mouth. They are a Niagara 
in miniature, with an island separating the two falls; of 
which the larger has a ceaseless mist in the centre. 
Below, three streams unite, forming a pool of conflicting 
eddies. The monotony of the firs, and an untowardly- 
placed saw-mill, detract much from the interest of the 
cataract. The lesser fall forms, in succession, three 


46 


HOR/E 


beautiful bubbling fountains. Below the bridge, which 
is well built, the river looks like the Rhone, about Pont 
St. Esprit. By all accounts, Elfcarleby is not great, 
when compared with the shoot of the Indal, above 
Sundswall; a brawling brook, when compared with the 
cataracts of the Angermanna, further northward; and a 
noisy gutter, when compared with the stupendous falls 
of the Luleo, which rival Niagara, and precipitate a 
great volume of water six hundred feet. None but the 
rein-deer hunters have seen these falls; which, as far as 
I can make out, are seven hundred miles from Gefle, 
where I now am. 

“ O mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos,” 

these seven hundred miles would be only as many yards, 
in my way of catching a view of what must be one of 
the first water diamonds in Gammer Nature’s wardrobe. 

August 15.—Gefle is a flourishing town, one hundred 
and twenty miles from Stockholm. A slow-flowing 
stream traverses the town, crossed by a two-arched 
granite bridge. Ships of five hundred tons lie close to 
the quays. A tongue of land, forming a planted walk, 
separates two ports. The Geflians send a few ships 
even to the East Indies. There are vast magazines of 
deals and iron, with a good rope-yard. I observe the 
Swedish sailors, on discharging any cargo, animate each 


JUVENILES. 


47 


other with a song in chorus, which is better than the 
Yo-eee-o of our sailors. Ever since leaving Copenhagen, 
I find no difference in the length of the days. Swedish 
cookery is somewhat gross. Pancakes they make well; 
but at the inns I could never find tender meat. The 
best dishes are the pike and perch cutlets, which lie 
like flakes of snow in the plate, and are of a delicate 
nut-like flavour. They served me here a bird, called 
ielpa , the size of a small partridge, rare in Sweden, but 
common in Finland. 

August 16. — On leaving Gefle, I soon quitted the 
great northern road to Tornea, and striking suddenly to 
the left, I reached the Stor Sjon, a lake of about twelve 
miles in length. I embarked on it for two hours, and 
trolled in vain for pike. I found its depth, in several 
soundings, not exceeding twenty-five feet. Three other 
charming lakes successively appeared; one of which 
reminded me of the Sempach; another, round which the 
road winded, of the Lower Killarney; and the third was 
quite of the Scandinavian character. On approaching 
Dalecarlia, the villages were more frequent; the cerealia 
more heavy in ear; and the sex handsomer than in the 
other parts I had traversed. Still several cottages bore 
a goodly crop of grass on their roofs. I regained the 
river Dal at Smedby; it has two branches, the eastern, 
and western, which join at Djoursas, considerably further 


48 


HORiE 


upward. These streams form several lakes; and as 
Thebes was called the hundred-gated , I dubbed the 
river the hundred-laked Dal. It is one of the most 
crystal streams I ever saw, having its banks pretty 
generally fringed with birch, ash, willows, and alders. 
Sometimes it flows slow, sometimes with a loud cata- 
ractic noise. I navigated, and plummed it at Smedby, 
and found from about twenty to thirty-six feet. At 
Uppbo, from the centre of the floating bridge, the plum¬ 
met sunk ninety-four feet. Here I caught a pike, and 
was near being inveigled by a considerable cataract. 
The ants cause much devastation in the lands of Sweden. 
Their nests are as large as an ordinary haycock. I 
played the Guy Fawkes with one of these formicular 
republics, by firing some gunpowder among them. The 
intelligence they showed on the occasion, confirmed me 
in the opinion of Huber, that they are the most intellec¬ 
tual of insects. At Sater, 1 saw several large fires 
kindled, to destroy hundreds of their nests. 

August 18.—I presently entered a vast vale, waving 
with oats and rye, as yet unripe. Beans and peas are 
still very small. The sky still continues cloudless, and 
the sun has great power. I dined at a ferry on the Dal, 
and sounding it in the middle, found forty-eight feet. 
Hitherto the hills had not much exceeded the Malvern 
in height; but on approaching Djoursas, where I found 


JUVENILES. 


49 


the worst quarters I had yet had in Sweden, the Kop- 
parberg mountains assumed a minor Swiss grandeur. 
I walked to the banks of the crystal Dal; and my guide 
Jacob hallooing for a boat, was answered by a perfect 
echo. 1 made the rock-nympli repeat this hexameter, 
word for word :— 

Cedite in Europa, omnia flumina, cedite Dalo ! 

August 19. — I had hitherto followed the western 
branch of the Dal; and soon after quitting Djoursas, 
passed, on a floating bridge, the eastern branch, which, 
higher up, forms a lake as large as the Lucerne. I left 
the carriage, and walked about a mile, by an intricate 
path, to see a splendid salmon-leap, called the Great 
Quart. It shoots very obliquely across the river, in a 
scene of singular wildness and solitude. At Floda, 
whence, perhaps, our word flood , and where I found a 
neat little inn, the birch and mountain ashes break the 
monotony of the firs. Potatoes here are not larger than 
walnuts; raspberries are common. On leaving Floda, 
scarcely could I proceed two miles without seeing or 
hearing a cataract. At Ragsveden, where a new road 
had lately been opened, the peasants insisted on double 
postage. 

August 21.—The road now lay through the most ex¬ 
traordinary scene of sylvan devastation that can be con- 

E 


50 


HOR^ 


ceived; which lasted a full fifty miles. Fires had been 
applied almost every where. Some of the trees presented 
a charcoal mass; others rose like white skeletons, with¬ 
out their barks; many were torn up by the roots, and 
lay transversely across huge rocks; others were dying, 
or dead. I dubbed this tract Death's Shrubbery; and 
it might be easily imagined as leading to a palace of the 
king of terrors, himself seated in a hall composed of a 
million of skulls. Horribly gloomy would the road have 
been, in wet and windy weather; but the sky still pre¬ 
serves its lustre. The road now lay southward; and on 
my gaining the extreme brow of Dalecarlia, a magnifi¬ 
cent view expanded, marked by two considerable lakes, 
one of which resembled the Vico, in Italy; but the end¬ 
less monotony of firs detracts often from the beauties of 
a Swedish landscape. This is the sultriest day I have 
experienced in Sweden. The sun scorches, I think, 
more than in Sicily, and a coup de soleil has swollen my 
face into sores; though three days ago, on the Dal, the 
leaves were crisp with frost, on my leaving Appelbo, at 
four in the morning. 

August 22.—My journey to Molkom furnished very 
remarkable landscapes. The blue-eyed and flax-haired 
Sverige exhibited a series of panoramic views, which 
continued on the banks of six lakes. One, called the 
Rada, resembled more a river than a lake. I followed 


JUVENILES. 


51 


its banks for twelve miles; another resembled Grasmere, 

but it was only a portion of a larger sheet of water; a 

third reminded me of the descent to the Thrasvmene; 

the others were sui generis. The road had many abrupt 

and dangerous declivities. After driving through some 

fine woods of birches, ashes, and sycamores, I reached 

Carlstadt, at the head of the Wenner lake. Here the 

river Clara, which answers to its name, after a course of 

two hundred miles, is discharged into the Wenner. The 

town has spacious and rectangular streets, a good inn, a 

savings’ bank, and freemasons’ hall. The population is 

about five thousand. Necessary repairs to my calash 

detained me here two or three days. 

• • 

August *20.—Amol, a thriving little port, and distant 
from Carlstadt forty-five miles, is situated at the mouth 
of a river that disembogues into the Wenner lake. I 
navigated for three hours this Swedish Caspian, and 
about a mile from the port, I found one hundred and 
seventy-four feet in sounding the depth. The road now 
was nearly due west; and on approaching Fjall, situated 
on another lucid mirror, it w r as easy to see that Sweden 
was gradually borrowing the more marked features of 
Norway. The hills were more abrupt, and insulated; 
the trees grew more picturesquely; the firs were thrown 
more into the back-ground; and gave way to pensile 
birches, ashes, sycamores, and aspens. I was admiring 


52 


HORiE 


the difference, when on a sudden, the most exquisite 
lake burst to view that I ever beheld. Such was its 
transparency, that I could even count the cones of the 
firs reflected in its mirror. It surpassed in beauty, but 
not in sublimity, every other lake that I 'have seen.. I 
crossed a wooden bridge thrown over a crystal current, 
which is lost in the Wenner. 

August 27.—On quitting Taxviden, where I slept, 
the mists were dispersing before a cloudless sun, when 
two more lucid and considerable lakes were developed to 
view, both of, to me, unique beauty. The ant-hills are 
not so numerous as in Dalecarlia. These insects are 
sworn enemies to the serpents. Woe betides the reptile 
that dares approach their haunts, for he will be reduced 
to a clean skeleton in twenty-four hours by his voracious 
enemies. I had just passed a third lake, when on 
traversing a singular isthmus, I had to my left another; 
and to my right, one seen longitudinally, called the 
Stor Le , or Great Gate. It is no less than sixty-five 
miles long, and presented a series of seven or eight 
jutting promontories of great boldness, but not of re¬ 
markable height. Never shall I forget this scene, fit 
to inspire a Milton in his picture of Paradise, or a Tasso 
in his imagination of the Gardens of Armida ! 

I now mounted a very rocky defile, where the patience 
of the horses, and firmness of the carriage, were put to 


JUVENILES. 


53 


severer test than hitherto in Sweden. No jibbing, no 
kicking, no starting, are the characteristics of the good- 
tempered Swedish horses. The magic word Pu-r-r-r 
has with them more influence than the lash. Soon after 
leaving Sundby, T gained the bridge, which separates 
Sweden from Norway. During my tour, comprising 
about one thousand miles, T had often occasion to 
admire the gratitude of the servants at the inns for the 
trifling remuneration I gave them. The innkeepers 
charge, pretty generally, fairly. A tardiness of move¬ 
ment seems to characterise the peasantry. Rarely do 
you find a knife that will cut, in spite of the country 
producing the best iron in Europe. You meet with 
good milk almost every where, but seldom wheaten 
bread; generally hard and sour rye-cakes. Of the 
climate I have a high opinion for salubrity. There is 
a silvery brilliance in the atmosphere unknown in any 
part of the British isles, which gives elasticity to the 
nerves, and cheerfulness to the spirits. 

Farewell, then, Sverige ; on whom Aurora of the 
night sheds sweet influence! Queen of the thousand 
crystal waters, fare thee well! 


54 


HOKyft 


THE NORWEGIAN JOURNAL. 


Norrige, with austerer features than her sister 
Sverige, beckons to me. Now for the land, 

Where Norimberga, from her icy mounds. 

Sees raging hurricanoes flout her skies. 

And fan her children cold. 

August 29.—After a precipitous descent of nearly 
three miles, I reached Fredericshall, where the bold 
promontories, and fiords begin already to proclaim what 
Norway is—the most picturesque of European countries. 
The fortress commands a most extended prospect; and 
one of my first objects was the tomb of that hero, the 
most brilliant field of whose exploits I had perambu¬ 
lated, several years before, at Narva; little dreaming 
then, that it was reserved for me to muse over his 
monument at Fredericshall. It is more paltry than 
many of our tombs in country churchyards. 1 ima¬ 
gined, in its room, a cippus of one piece of granite, 



JUVENILES. 


55 


resting on a plinth of the same material; the plinth one 
foot in height; the cippus of three feet in diameter ; 
round which should be bronze letters mosaically in¬ 
serted, composing this inscription: 

Hie. FATO. OCCUBUIT. 

CAROLUS. ILLE. DUODECIMUS. 

The cippus to be four of its diameters in height. 

August 30.—The road from Fredericshall to Haflund 
presenting nothing remarkable, my inind was engrossed 
with anticipations of the Sarpen Foss, a cataract so 
called, and formed by the river Glomm, nine miles 
above its mouth. O dame Nature ! wert thou not in 
exquisitest humour of invention, when thou struckedst 
out of thy laboratory this splendid fall ? It is surrounded 
by many saw-mills, and is easily approachable; you 
may touch on either side with your stick the enormous 
volume of water, which surpasses in quantity that at 
Trolhaetta. There is an arrowry shooting about it, which 
I never saw in any other cataract. 

Astounded by the wat’ry roar, I clomb 

O’er the dark rocks that skirt the foaming Glomm, 

which were rounded by the attrition of the waters. 
One resembled a large whale. The height of the fall 
varies from ninety to one hundred and ten feet, accord- 


56 


HORiE 


ing to the seasons of decrease or increase. It partakes 

r 

of cataract and cascade. The emerald hue of the waters, 
contrasted with the darkness of the rocks, and that 
again with the immense quantity of foam, was very fine. 
The saw-mills added to the effect; for many of them 
leaking, and their conduits very high, formed a hissing- 
fracas, surpassing in violence all the rain-storms that 
can be conceived. Crossing the ferry, I reached the 
hospitable mansion of Mr. Pelly, who superintends the 
neighbouring mill; and after partaking of whose hospi¬ 
talities, I accompanied a party of Norwegian ladies to 
the falls, which, though now forming the most consider¬ 
able I had ever seen,- had not half the quantity of water 
hurried down in the spring. Higher up, the Glomm, 
for a space of many miles, forms a series of seventeen 
falls, some of which exceed thirty feet in perpendicular 
height. Soon after quitting Haflund, I fell in with a 
cheerful lake; and presently after, another appeared, 
like Nemi, “ navelled in the woody hills,” and set off' 
with all the glorious appurtenances of a setting sun in 
the north. 

August 31.—I arrived at Moss. It has numerous 
saw-mills; but the stream that moves them, is at this • 
season, thrifty. The town is respectably inhabited. 
After rambling there in a garden belonging to the Anker 
family, I reached Prinsdal, eight miles from Christiana. 


JUVENILES. 


57 


Here the splendid fiord burst upon the view. The 
descent by the zig-zag road to Christiania, is among the 
finest things in Europe; it surpassed my expectations ; 
and glad was I to procure a civilized breakfast at the 
Hotel du Nord ; for 

Sour rye-cakes, and such poor hay, 

Had been my food for many a day. 

Christiania is the most important of the three Norwe¬ 
gian capitals ; I say three, for Bergen is a second, and 
Tronjem is a third. In the last, is a national bank. It 
contains upwards of twenty thousand inhabitants, and 
flourishes from the staple commodity of the country, 
deals. In an excursion which I made to Bogstadt, on 
the Drammen road, I passed at least fifty carriages of 
different descriptions, carrying parties of pleasure to the 
environs. The weather is still fine ; but the farmers, in 
consequence of the long drought, fear there will be no 
hay in the country. One of them told my guide that it 
had not rained for five months. 

September 2.—I visited the new palace, not half 
completed, and the foundations of which have cost two 
hundred thousand rix banco, advanced by the king; I 
rambled too over the old fortress of Aggerhuus, built on 
a peninsula. As its fortifications are now useless, here, 
I think, should have stood the new palace ; and here, as 


58 


HOR^E 


I heard, it would, had not the King’s horse pricked his 
ears on entering the gateway; an accident interpreted 
as inauspicious by the royal rider. I hired a boat, and 
rowed about four miles from the port. Disembarking 
on one of the islands, I gained a summit, commanding, 
on three sides, grand views. I found, on sounding, from 
thirty to one hundred feet. 

September 4.—Wandering in two gardens about a 
mile from the city, I was caught in the first rain since 
leaving Upsala. All nature seems to rejoice after so 
long a drought. There are several good orchards near 
Christiania; I saw many apple, plum, and pear trees 
bending beneath their fruit, but many were distempered 
by parasite and stringy mosses. I noticed, too, several 
standard morellas black with the profusion of cherries. 
There is also a cherry of a transparent amber colour. 
Melons and cucumbers thrive well in frames. The 
apricot, though small, ripens with good flavour, but not 
the peach. Green-gages are excellent. Of the flowers, 
stocks, lupins, lilacs, and seringoes, are to the full as 
fine as in England. The trembling poplar and willow 
succeed very well; the oaks and sycamores are inferior; 
the limes and ashes thrive tolerably. Currants, rasp¬ 
berries, and gooseberries would be excellent, were the 
gardening less slovenly. With more industry, the 
Christiania territory would be a favourite with Vertum- 
nus and Pomona. 


JUVENILES. 


59 


September 5.—I crossed an arm of the fiord to the 
villa of the British Consul, who is fond of trees; many 
of which, round his house, he has planted. Among 
them, I noticed a singular species of mountain-ash. 
My kind host appeared determined to act up to the 
Virgilian precept: Sylvce sint Consule dignce. But the 
fir is the glory of Norway. It seems absolutely to riot 
in its soil and atmosphere. Unlike the firs of Sweden, 
they have each an individual character. The most 
valuable are those that grow in almost inaccessible 
situations; their growth, in that case, is slower, but the 
timber is far more valuable than that of those which are 
the produce of the bottoms. But even the latter are 
more durable by far than the best of the American deals. 
In spite of the checks thrown by the English govern¬ 
ment on the importation of the Baltic timber, such is the 
commercial avidity for the Norwegian deals, that 
scarcely has a tree attained one foot or fifteen inches, in 
diameter at the base, than down it is felled, and it finds 
its way in great quantities to France, in lesser, of course 
to England, since the imposition of the increased duties. 
The genuine colour of the true deal is a sort of ruddyish 
saffronish hue; when pale, like the American, it is less 
durable. 

September 8.—Quitting Christiania, I traversed a 
country similar to what is frequently seen in the minor 


60 


HOR.E 


Apennines. They are making great progress in clearing 
the grounds of firs; and I passed considerable tracts 
waving with oats and barley. After crossing two rivers 
in precipitous ravines, I noticed indistinctly to the 
right, the Ojeren See, formed by the river Glomm. 

September 9.—On quitting Raaholt, I soon perceived 
that I was approaching the Norwegian Alps. One rose 
like the Weissentein; and as I was comparing their 
resemblance, a glorious view of four promontories, jutting 
boldly into the Miosen lake, burst upon the view. The 
road, for fifty miles, coasts this fine expanse of water, 
which is one hundred miles in length, but rarely more 
than twelve in breadth. Its banks rival in grandeur 
those of the Lago Maggiore. The ascents, though not 
long, w*ere so steep, that the horses could not master 
them, without fetching breath, every four or five yards. 
At Korsegaarden, I embarked on the Miosen, and found 
on sounding, from forty to about fifty feet. 

September 10.—-Three mountains rose diversely with 
great grandeur in the landscape. I reached Moe, which 
has a striking spire. Here the Ankers, who for their 
public spirit may be termed the sheet-anchors of Nor¬ 
way, have established a great all-trades magazine. At 
Lillehammer, at the extremity of the lake, I gained the 
highest point north. It is about the parallel of the 
Ferroe isles. Here I purchased some wheaten loaves, 


JUVENILES. 


61 


a luxury in this part of Norway. The lake is terminated 
by a mountain like the Puy-de-Dome in France. The 
ferry here is about half a mile over. I gained the 
western side of the lake, which reminded me frequently 
of that of Geneva, above Lausanne. 

September 11.—Before reaching Hund, I passed the 
most spacious farming establishment I had seen in Nor¬ 
way. Very few in England surpass it. The trees are 

* 

not striking for their size ; but there is always some¬ 
thing picturesque about them, both individually and 
collectively. The villages are so many collections of 
Swiss chalets, but nearly all have good glazed windows. 

September 1*2.—On leaving Hund, I ascended a steep 
hill for two miles. The road now left the Miosen 
behind ; and on gaining the summit a dense fog en¬ 
veloped us. At Musta, the postmaster showed me a 
fir-built house, which is six hundred years old. The 
wooden beams were extremely compressed, and had a 
very black appearance. They told me that eight men 
were found dead in it of the black-sickness, that raged 
in Norway in the days of King Magnus, about the year 
1300. Descending to Rodnaes, on the Ranas lake, on 
which the sun was shooting Moses’s horns through 
ruddy-brown clouds, so precipitous was the descent, 
that the calash was forced to be abandoned by the 
whole party, and there was no going without chaining 


62 


H01U5 


both wheels. I here fell in with the great road from 
Christiania to Bergen, from which I was now distant 
three hundred miles. This fine sheet of water, some¬ 
what resembling that of Wallenstadt in Switzerland, 
runs parallel to the Miosen, and is seventy miles in 
length, and from about three to half a mile in breadth. 
It is filled by a river descending from the Fillefield 
mountains. I rowed on the lake, plummed it, and 
found the deepest soundings fifty-five feet. It would 
appear that occasionally sudden paroxysms of crime 
occur in Norway; for, near the inn, they showed me a 
spot, where a murderer had been decapitated, and 
afterwards burned, two years since. He had stolen two 
watches, and had sold them to a neighbouring peasant’s 
family. He was put in jail on suspicion. He was a 
soldier; and his captain having a good opinion of him, 
procured his release, pledging himself as bail for his 
reappearance. In the mean time, rewards were adver¬ 
tised for the recovery of the watches. The soldier, con¬ 
science-struck, went to the peasant to whom he had sold 
them, and entreated him to return them, which he 
refused to do. Immediately the soldier took the des¬ 
perate resolution of beating out the brains of the whole 
family to the number of eight persons, and of setting 
fire to their dwelling. I am, however, willing to believe 
that such acts are of extreme rarity in Norway. 


JUVENILES. 


63 



September 14.—The points of view resemble much 
those on the Lake of Bienne. The day is the rainiest I. 
have had since entering Scandinavia. 

Heu ! pluit assidufe, et fuse;* caligine ccelum 
Obtegitur ; montes circumvolvuntur opacis 
Nubibus, et solis redituri nulla refulget 
Spes ; oculisque meis campique lacusque recedunt. 

September 15.—So steep were the ascents before 
reaching Grannevolden, that the horses were forced to 
stop for breath every two minutes. I remember having 
in my youth seen a view inscribed : Dangerous road in 
Norway; whether or no it pictured the tract I followed, 
I cannot say, but I am sure it corresponded with the 
line of abrupt steeps continually occurring. Here is a 
church built much in the form of the cathedral at 
Christiania, with windows in the Saxon style; also a 
chapel destroyed by lightning. The extremity of the 
Ranas lake was closed by a mountain resembling Skid- 
daw, but twice its height. Soon after leaving Vang, a 
glorious view of the lake Tyrie broke upon the sight; 
while below, and full four miles off, I descried the 
Honefoss cataract. I went thither in a cariole of the 
country. The river is crossed by a most singular bridge 
a quarter of a mile long ; it traverses great part of the 
stream, and then ascends on one side the cataract. The 


64 


» 


HOR.E 


rocks are very dark, and only partially covered by the 
fall, which resembles a silvery veil thrown over a funereal 
pall. The evening is strikingly wild; and Equinox 
seems to stride the Norwegian blasts in good earnest. 

September 16.—I made a detour from the high road, 
to see Krukliven, (the cloven valley,) frequented by the 
people of Christiania in parties of pleasure. What the 
Peneian Tempe is to Greece, what the Reatine is to 
Italy, such is Krukliven to Norway. The Tyrie lake, 
seen through the chasm from the pass, is quite indescrib¬ 
able for the effect. On my return towards the station 
of Klakken, where I found the best inn I had entered, 
since quitting Stockholm, I passed the Boen river, in a 
crazy ferry, and soon reached Egge, at the northern 
extremity of the Tyrie lake ; where, in compliment to 
the station, I recruited my strength with two hard eggs. 
The road now winded continually on the margin of the 
crystal expanse of the Tyrie, which is twenty-three miles 
long, by about twelve in breadth. I reached Yigersund, 
at the southern extremity of the lake, with a very dirty 
inn, in complete darkness towards midnight; to which, 
however, I should have been reconciled, had not my 
guide omitted mentioning a fine cataract, in the neigh¬ 
bourhood, and which I missed seeing. 

September 17.—The next morning, I followed the 
vale of the Stor Elv, or Big River; and after travelling 


JUVENILES. 65 

about ten miles, a loud murmur struck my ears, which 
proceeded from the Imbrous-foss cataract, to which I 
immediately descended. The surrounding landscape is 
admirable ; here were no saw-mills. Nature was left 
to herself. O ye Norsk Naiads! how shall I describe 
the brilliance, transparency, and volubility of its eddies, 
which descend in a volume of water, nearly equal to 
Trolhaetta, but not so high ? I had scarcely proceeded 
on the road two miles farther, before the roar of the 
Dervikka cataract assailed my auricular organs. The 
shoot is higher than the first, and the waters below r form 
a vaster basin of circumvolving eddies; but there is only 
one fall. The landscape (I had almost written water¬ 
scape) improved on approaching Hougsund, where there 
is another fall, but of inconsiderable height. At Houg¬ 
sund, I fell in with a party of drunken Norsks, with two 
of whom, less inspired by Bacchus than the others, I 
had agreed to transport myself and carriage by water to 
Drammen. The boat was too small for the carriage, 
which I concluded they would tie to planks laid trans¬ 
versely, and so I am persuaded it w 7 ould have rode 
securely; but the Norsks placed it longitudinally in the 
boat. The fore wheel burst the sides of the craft; the 
water rushed in with violence, and much ado had I to 
secure my vehicle from the bed of the Stor Elv. The 


F 


66 


HOR.^L 


bait of a few more marks procured me horses; and 
following continually the river, I reached Drammen. 

September 18.—The weather, during my ten days 
tour from Christiania, was sometimes unfavourable: 
but I lost but little of the landscapes; and other incon¬ 
veniences were balanced by the sight of three of the 
most striking of the lakes of Norway, and three of her 
most splendid waterfalls. Drammen has about eight 
thousand inhabitants, and is yearly increasing. In con¬ 
sequence of the great advantages afforded to the timber 
trade by its fine river, I should not be surprised, if, in 
another century, it were to eclipse Christiania, that town 
having only a rivulet, scarcely competent to turn a saw¬ 
mill. The town extends a mile and a half along each 
bank of the river. The port below would hold all the 
royal and commercial navies of England. At where the 
river joins it, I sounded, and found seventy-four feet. 
There exists, four miles from Drammen, a spot, called the 
Hill of Paradise. I went thither in a cariole. Cheerful 
is the scene it commands over the Drammen fiord, and I 
counted from the top four or five ranges of distant moun¬ 
tains. The clouds gathered fast as I returned, which 
made me quote the concluding lines of the Paradise Lost. 

I, looking back, the eastern side beheld 

Of Paradise, so late my happy seat. 

By low’ring mists obscur’d, and threat’ning clouds. 


JUVENILES. 


67 


September 22.—This day I quitted Drammen, and 
on ascending a hill, saw a view which I preferred to 
the boasted Paradise. The ships looked like so many 
little models bedded in a glass mirror, and moored close 
to steep cliffs. The scene is singularly sublime, as you 
approach Holmestrand, where the road lies close to the 
sea; and cliffs six hundred and more feet high, nearly 
perpendicular, and scantily fringed with trees, overhang 
the fiord. An Italian day set off this extraordinary 
pass, to my eye, of unequalled beauty. Holmestrand 
fits out twenty vessels annually, freighted with deals. 
The evening being fine, I hired a boat, and rowed to a 
high cliff on the opposite side of the bay. The sound¬ 
ings gave three hundred feet, about as many yards from 
the town ; and ninety-four feet, within three feet of the 
cliff. Ovid should have placed the scene of Echo’s 
metamorphosis in Norway, no other country having so 
many of her haunts. I was interrupted in my puerile 
addresses to her, by a large grampus, whose unwieldy 
gambols were too near the boat to be pleasant. They 
served me a bird, called by the Norsks a wild turkey, at 
dinner; but I take it to be nothing but a very large species 
of grouse. It feeds on the tender sprouts of the fir, is 
very timid, and seldom seen near the roads. On the road 
to Laurvig, I found the first beech-tree. It is not known 
in Norway, north of Laurvig. Several oaks of good size 
are frequent in the landscape. 


08 


HOR..E 


September 24.—Laurvig stands on a bay, somewhat 
like that of Spezzia in Tuscany. Immediately behind 
it is a lake, fifteen miles in length, of singularly pic¬ 
turesque aspect. The road to Skeen, where I now 7 am, 
baffles the pow 7 ers of description. Could Salvator Rosa 
have visited this tract, he would have forgotten his 
Calabrias. The fine river at Skeen is almost stifled 
with saw-mills. Here are three bridges carried from 
rock to rock, amidst a confusion of roaring waters. It 
is a flourishing place, with nearly five thousand inhabi¬ 
tants. Leaving the high road, near Skeen, I struck off 
by a bye-lane to the right, and reached a most extra¬ 
ordinary succession of sceneiy. Sometimes an irregular 
plateau w r as set off w r ith the finest birches; sometimes 
from a lawn, several huge insulated rocks appeared; 
some naturally terraced, w r ith ashes, aspens, and firs 
sprouting from their fissures. In a short hour, I reached 
a spot where the Skeen river formed an immense pool; 
in the distance, were many timbers hurried in eddies; 
at the same time a thundering murmur struck my ears, 
wdiich proceeded from the Skot-foss cataract; I could 
only approach it by crossing the pool in a boat to an 
opposite promontory, but on the same side on which I 
was. I saw a punt, to which the oars were chained 
and locked. My interpreter Jacob, seizing an axe, con¬ 
trived in five minutes to make two apologies for oars, 


JUVENILES. 


U9 


with which we creeped close to the shore for fear of 
being inveigled by the vortices. On gaining a rough 
eminence, I saw, below, the Skot-foss cataracts in all 
their splendid volubility, pouring a volume of water at 
least double what descends at Trolhaetta! In the 
nearest fall, of an emerald green, not a bubble is seen in 
the aqueous mass, till it has long passed the ledge; the 
shoot beyond the island is one furious mass of foam, 
descending not so precipitously as the first, for at least 
three hundred yards, but with extreme velocity. I had 
as soon see the Skot-foss as the American Niagara, the 
landscape being much finer; and I have no doubt the 
water that falls is much more than that at the lesser 
Niagara shoot; and it may be imagined what a mass of 
fluid must be discharged by this river, which forms the 
sole outlet of seven large lakes, tlwee of which are larger 
and deeper than Loch Lomond! The river, below, 
pursues its career in the vortices of a sea-green colour? 
and enclosed in cliffs, with a frightful rapidity. As my 
eyes were rivetted to this extraordinary sight, my guide 
Jacob said, “ Sir, you will see much better than this at the 
Houl-foss, twenty-two miles from here; at the Vrang- 
foss, four miles beyond that; and at the Tind-foss, to 
see which, you must navigate a lake to and fro for a 
whole day.” This rich bait I swallowed with as much 
avidity as any pike would his desired morsel, in spite of 


70 


HORiE 


the almost insuperable difficulties of the road. 1 reached 
the solitary inn at Tufte, by star-light, where the wind 
is howling a sonata through the endless mountain 
defiles; while greenish, yellowish, and purplish clouds 
flitted round the point where Sol had set. 

September 25.—This morning 1 reached the Houl- 
foss ferry, near the mouth of a large river, which forms 
the outlet of the Hvid-Soe, or White Lake. A quarter 
of a mile upwards is the cataract, which descends in a 
vast volume of emerald-green water. Where it meets 
the rocks, about thirty feet below, a singular scene is 
exhibited. The attrition of the water had scooped holes 
in three of the rocks, through which vast spouts of water 
were shot forth. One resembled an elephant’s head, 
without his trunk, which darted a jet d'eau , full twenty 
feet, and nearly equal to the lower fall at Tivoli. My 
guide threw a stone at least twenty pounds weight into 
the fall above. It was hurried down like a chip of fir- 
tree. After regaling my eyes for an hour with this 
aqueous feast, I went in a cariole, by a scarcely travel- 
able road, to the Vrang-foss cataract, four miles above. 
Its character is different from the preceding. For a 
long mile, the waters are imprisoned in a narrow gully, 
and tortured into every possible foaming eddy. Oppo¬ 
site is a perpendicular precipice, sprinkled with a few 
birch and fir, sprouting from places where it is incon- 





JUVENILES. 71 

eeivable that they could grow. In a widish basin 
below, by an incomprehensible conformation of the rocks 
underneath, the sea-green water continually formed 
three grand circular eddies, which gained gradually 
their full expansion, alternately increasing and decreas¬ 
ing, in similar and slow intervals of time. Never did I 
see any appurtenance to water in motion so singularly 
beautiful. I dubbed the Vrang-foss, jocosely, the 
creaming Champagne Cataract. And ought not the 
cheerful and sparkling Champagne to be called the 
cataractic wine ? Bacchus, as a legend of my own 
brain wills, after his Indian expedition, visited Gaul; 
and flushed, as usual, with his own grape, fell asleep 
near Epernay. He saw in a dream the cataracts of the 
Ganges. He had taken a great fancy to the country of 
Champagne, and wishing there to leave a memorial of 
his good will, sowed the grape on the morning after he 
had seen, in his dream, the falls of the Ganges. The 
result of the impression the dream had made on his 
brain w T as, that the grapes that grew from the seeds he 
threw, partook of the effervescing character of water in 
motion. Hence the origin of that exquisite beverage, 
which I allied at the Vrang-foss to all water-falls. Veuve 
Clichot, of Epernay, owes me a dozen of her best for 
this fable. A bridge of three firs was thrown to the 
opposite side of the precipice; and from it I followed 


72 


FIOJLi; 


surge after surge, breaker after breaker, and foam after 
foam, for several minutes. The Houl and Vrang-fosses 
are worth all the cascades of Switzerland put together. 
Versailles! St. Ildefonso ! no more of your fountains ! 

September 26 .—I hired a boat, with four stout 
Norsks, to visit the Tind-foss fall, distant from the 
Houl ferry twenty-four miles. It disembogues from the 
Tind lake, upwards of forty miles long. The scenery on 
each side of the north lake, which I boated, is very 
varied; one while it expanded to about three miles; 
one while it was contracted to about three hundred 
yards. Sublime was my position from its extreme isola¬ 
tion, when I ordered the boatmen to suspend their oars, 
to listen to the murmur of the fall, distant eight miles. 
Not an animal or house of any kind was at this point 
seen ; not a leaf was moving ; not a weed or splinter of 
wood was to be seen on the crystal expanse. Beneath 
me was a profundity of one thousand feet and more. I 
landed on a precipitous gravel bank, from the top of 
which I saw clouds of mist ascend, and presently reached 
a well-built bridge thrown over a rock, like that at the 
Menai, and nearly as high. The fall is a quarter of a 
mile from the bridge, to which the whole river resembles 
a highly whipped syllabub. I gained the other side, 
and with the aid of a friendly juniper, overhung, from 
its table rock, this Norsk Niagara, which descends per- 


JUVENILES. 


73 


pendicularly one hundred and seventy-four feet. One 
half of it is a foaming white, the other an emerald green. 
It is separated by a rock from another, which is tumbled 
in a hundred streams, at nearly right angles with the 
greater. There rose a vast pile of timbers below the 
lesser fall, which resembled an irregular scaffolding; 
from which, one rose like the mast of a ship, quivering 
like a reed from the force of the waters. A fatal catas¬ 
trophe occurred last year only. Three Norsks, wishing 

to disengage a mass of timbers, which had collected 
% 

round a rock above, dislodged the main supporters first 
In the twinkling of an eye the whole mass was shot 

V 

down the fall, and with it the three Norwegians. One 
was found near the bridge, his breast beaten in ; of the 
other two not the least remnant was ever found. A 
quarter of a mile above the great falls, is a very brisk 
cataract, shooting its waters over a remarkably oblique 
dam of rocks. 

I heard various accounts of formidable serpents in 
Norway, but saw none. My guide asserted that a 
species is occasionally seen, which, after inserting its 
tail within its jaws, moves with inconceivable velocity, 
like a wheel, and that one of them knocked down a 
young girl, and destroyed her with his circumvolving 
folds. Not being able to trace this story to an authentic 
source, I am inclined to place this reptile in the same 
museum that Pontoppidan devoted to his kraken. 


74 


IIOKiE 


On several herborizing excursions, made near the 
post stations, I was struck with nothing novel in the 
Norwegian Flora. 

Repassing the bridge below, I attempted to approach 
the lesser shoot; but even at the distance of three 
hundred yards was saluted by it with such a pelting rain, 
that I judged it advisable to regain my boat; deeming 
that water, though pleasant at a respectful distance, is 
not altogether so as a bosom-friend. I took my farewell 
of the Tind-foss in the following extempore : 

A 

Cedite, Romani cataractes ! cedite, Graii! 

Tinfosso cedat quicquid ubique ruit! 

And the last verse I suspect will be nearly found true 
with respect to Norway; for, though in the environs of 
Bergen, two or three falls are cited as being much 
higher than the Tind-foss; still their effect depends 
almost entirely on the melting of the snows. At other 
periods, they mostly resemble slips of white ribbon. 

I reached the Houl-foss ferry at night, having made 
an aquatic excursion of forty-eight miles in sixteen 
hours, and just in time to escape a drenching rain. 

September 27.—Embarking my carriage in a large 
boat, I regained the post-house near Skeen, after navi¬ 
gating the north lake about twenty miles. 

September 28.—Having slept at Porsgrund, I reached 


JUVENILES. 


75 



Brevig, a post situated pretty similarly to Laurvig. The 
rain had cloven the road into deep furrows, which was 
often very steep ; and the torrents poured in force across 
the way. For eighty long miles to Arendal, I saw an 
endless variety of sui generis landscapes. The traveller 
who would wish to exclaim with Rousseau, O Altitudo! 
should repair to Swisserland; but let him who would 
say, O Nature protervce lusus singularis et sublimis! 
visit this range of the Christiania fiord. Beautiful was 
the succession of five lakes close to which the road 
wound. Here true nature was to be enjoyed, unadul¬ 
terated by rail-roads, steam-engines, turnpike-gates, 
stage-coaches, omnibuses, and mails. After dining at 
Roed, a romantic station at the end of the grand 
Oesteriser fiord, I arrived at the beautiful port of 
Arendal. 

October 2.—It has about two thousand inhabitants, 
and is built round the margin of the harbour, the houses 
so overhung by rocks as to leave scarcely room for 

court-yards behind. A new chapel, of singular, novel, 

/ 

and pleasing architecture, was building. Several of the 
houses, though fir-built, are painted white, which gives 
the place a very cleanly appearance; among them, are 
two or three that would figure in any capital. Ships of 
five hundred tons can hoist their cargoes ashore, almost 
every where in the port, which is secure, deep, and 


76 


uohje 


large enough to contain half the navy of England. You 
may build at Arendal a good boat, capable of holding 
three or four persons, for five English shillings. Here I 
saw several naked-footed beggars. 

October 4.—After profiting of the hospitality of the 
British Consul, who remembered Louis Philippe travel¬ 
ling in these regions,I quitted Arendal; and after passing 
considerable iron-works, presently entered a spacious 
valley, in which 1 saw the river Nid foaming in the vale 
below, and which issues, fifty miles north, from four 
lakes which enclose a vast island, nearly square. Two 
miles beyond, 1 descried clouds of vapour ascending 
from a chasm ; they were occasioned by the great falls 
of the Nid, which disembogues at Arendal. I had a 
rough walk of a mile to see them. The rush of waters 
was exceedingly brisk, but they are not so clear as is 
usual in the Norwegian falls. The descent is perpen¬ 
dicular, but not, I should imagine, exceeding sixty feet. 
But such is the volume of water, that I hardly think all 
the Welsh cascades united would equal the falls of the 
Nid. Below is an immense whirlpool, turning in sap¬ 
phire-coloured eddies. They are called, I believe, the 
Bulsta falls; and I regaled my ears with their watery 
sonata for a full hour. 

October 5.—The road to the small port of Lillesand, 
was not a succession of hills, but rather of precipices, 


JUVENILES. 


77 


to clear which, I had once or twice to pay double fare, 
and an extra horse. Bizarre were the forms of the 
rocks; one had the appearance of a giant swimming in 
the fiord; another was a castle of the twelfth century in 
ruins, round which several seals were sporting; another, 
freckled with blackish stones, and very round, reminded 
me of our national dish ; and, to make my guide Jacob 
laugh, 1 dubbed it Neptune's Plum-pudding. After 
riding for a dozen miles, round the margin of the fiord, 
I reached Christiansand, two hundred and eighty miles 
from Christiania. 

October 7.— Christiansand has two vast harbours, 
separated by a considerable rocky islet. It has spacious 
streets, not ill paved; houses rather low, but commo¬ 
dious ; and about eight thousand inhabitants. Many 
houses have large deal-yards attached to them. Gar¬ 
dening here seems better understood than in other parts 
of Norway. In the churchyard is the largest fir I had 
seen. The frank hospitality of the British and French 
Consuls enlivened several hours here, which I should 
otherwise have found heavy. 

October 8.—This day was too brilliant to lose. I 
accordingly hired a cariole, and followed the river Tors- 
dale, to the westward, for sixteen miles, to behold the 
Venesland falls. The river is, perhaps, the most weed¬ 
less and transparent I ever saw; flowing rapidly with 


78 


HORiE 


the blue lustre of the Rhone at Geneva, and in many 
places with a depth of sixty feet. Half an hour after 
crossing a ferry, the two cataracts presented themselves, 
with the sun blazing upon them. A tree-clad island 
separated them. A saw-mill occupies a considerable 
tract close to the left and minor fall. A short mile 
beyond is the Hell-foss, where the whole mass of the 
Torsdale is whirled, in violent eddies, in a deep gully 
not above thirty feet broad. Firs were sprouting from 
rocks with no visible earth to nourish them. The shoot 
is of the same character as the Vrang-foss, but not so 
fine. Returning to the Venesland falls, I suspected 
that the island concealed something superlatively grand, 
and my surmise was soon verified; for after crossing the 
river half a mile below the falls, I came to the verge of 
what I w r as tempted to consider the flower of all the 
Norsk cataracts. The mass of waters was not so great 
as those at Skeen; but there w T as a furious velocity 
about it, that made me gaze at it from the salmon-trap 
for a long hour. The grandest impetus is where it meets 
the basin below, where it forms a billowy mountain of 
at least fifteen feet. For genuine cataractic violence 
and fracas, nothing of equal volume can surpass it. 
There were no saw-mills near it. The ultra Italian 
brilliance of the day, the splendour of the autumnal 
tints, the deciduous trees seen nearly all, individually, 


JUVENILES. 


79 


and growing in fantastic shapes on the precipices—con¬ 
spired to stamp the recollection of the Venesland falls 
indelibly on my memory. I returned late to Christian- 
sand, my brain in a sort of dizzy vertigo from the noise 
and velocity of the waters. 

October 12.—The soil in the environs of the town is 
sandy, as its name implies. Many of the inhabitants 
have one, two, or more sheep; they hire a shepherd, 
who tends the united flock for the day, to feed in the 
mountains ; and at sunset each sheep is seen to separate 
from the flock, and return, each to the owners, like so 
many dogs to their masters. Detained by a delay of 
the captain of a Danish cutter, with whom I have 
agreed for a passage to Copenhagen, I judged I could 
not do better than row twelve miles up the Toft river, 
another large stream disemboguing into the northern 
branch of the fiord. Its limpidity was only troubled 
by that singular zoophyte, called sometimes the sea 
anemone. Very peculiar were its colours; and I was 
informed that the large ones are capable of inflicting a 
powerful gripe with their large antennae. The cataract 
formed by the Toft partakes much of the character of 
that at Venesland, but it is very inferior. Its most 
striking appurtenance is a wooden aqueduct, half a mile 
in length, down which large timbers are shot with the 
quickness of lightning. This fall, called the Boen 


80 


HORiE 


cataract, was a whipped syllabub sugar-plum, given me 
at parting, by old Gammer Norimberga, which she 
drew herself from her little bons-bons box of ecume 
de mer, 

October 14.—Having now been forty days in Nor¬ 
way, I propose to annex a few remarks on the climate 
and inhabitants; aware, nevertheless, that my opinions 
can at best only be taken as an approximation to cer¬ 
tainty, especially as I am ignorant of the Norsk language. 
With regard to the climate, I was astonished at finding 
what the Norwegian is. I had pictured, from various 
reading, a something rather superior to the Icelandic, 
but still so indifferent, as to make Norway any thing 
but a desirable residence. But before forming a tolera¬ 
ble idea of it, it will be necessary to draw, in imagination, 
two lines of demarcation. One will follow the highest 
chain of the Dovre-field mountains, from the Swedish 
boundaries, to the environs of Tronjem; another will 
follow longitudinally, the Hardangerfield and Fillefield 
ranges, from where the latter join the Dovre-field to the 
Naze. These lines will separate three very different 
climates. With the exception of a few favoured valleys 
about Tronjem, all to the north of the Dovre-field par¬ 
takes strongly of the severe character of the Lapland 
climate. A much milder temperature marks that tract 
of country to the west of the Fillefield and Hardanger- 


JUVENILES. 


81 


field heights, accompanied, however, by frequent rains 
and dense fogs. The winters about Bergen are com¬ 
paratively mild, with not much snow, in the lower tract 
of country. But the case is very different in consider¬ 
ing the tract to the east of the line I have drawn. This 
tract I know pretty generally; and for salubrity and 
cheerfulness, it may be ranked in the first class of 
European climates. One uninterrupted course of bright 
weather, with a remarkable tenuity in the air, lasts 
often four, five, and sometimes seven weeks in the 
summer. The heat, in some shut valleys, is as intense, 
for several hours, as in the Swiss Valais. But there is 
a most exhilarating buoyancy in the air ; and several 
incipient cases of consumption have been cured by a 
short residence at Christiansand. The inhabitants, 
however, of this region, after making due allowances for 
several rocky and sandy tracts, must, I fear, be rated at 
a low grade, not only for what they have done relative 
to intellectual advancement, but also for ordinary attain¬ 
ments in domestic economy. Hundreds of peasants 
carry annually the produce of their farms to the sea¬ 
ports ; few open their eyes to the numerous hints 
imported and given by hundreds of vessels, from nearly 
all parts of Europe. This will appear more unaccount¬ 
able, when we consider that Norway dates her civiliza¬ 
tion as early as England; when we consider what 


G 


82 


HOEJB 


immense advantages are afforded by her countless and 

spacious ports; and for how long a period she has 

enjoyed commercial intercourse with the most favoured 

European nations. Enter a peasant’s dwelling ; and I 

grant you will often find an iron stove, in an apartment 
• / 

well-glazed; sour butter they will serve you with a fair 
admixture of hairs and dirt, though the finest springs 
are generally at hand. You will also find gritty and 
hard rye-cakes, a few watery potatoes, and cream of a 
slimy quality ; though, with a moderate attention to the 
dairy, they might have cream and butter nearly as good 
as in England, and cheese equal to our Cottenham and 
Stilton; what you find is salt, as hard as a brick, and 
usually cemented with hairs and dirt. The approach to 
their entrance-doors is generally over a carpet of reeking 
dung. In the best apartment, you will often find a 
cumbrous heap of gowns and jerkins, exhaling an odour 
similar to that of neglected brass. The cows, hogs, and 
poultry, have nearly common quarters, though I have 
often noticed eight or ten outhouses, as unadvisedly 
constructed as possible. I only saw the hardy Swedish 
turnip two or three times, and barely more than what 
would cover an acre. Many of the plateaus and bottoms 
equal the second-rate lands of England. I have often 
observed the water carried by an ill-understood drain to 
a bottom, when, not a hundred yards in a different 


JUVENILES. 


83 


direction, it might be carried down a precipice, for a 
day’s labour by three men. High charges are frequent 
in Norway ; neither does that good-humour, common 
among the peasants in Russia, characterize the Norsks. 
I have more than once seen a Norwegian peasant 
opening a case swollen with dollar-notes, his hands 
germinating with itch-pustules ; while his daughter w r ill 
be amusing herself on an instrument, which English 
spleen has called the Scotch Amati. Something cer¬ 
tainly may be said in vindication of the slow progress 
made by Norway, in consequence of her widely-extended 
population ; but it must be remembered, that she has 
Bergen and Christiania, each with about twenty thou¬ 
sand souls ; Tronjem, with fifteen thousand ; Drammen 
and Christian sand, with eight thousand; Fredericshall, 
Fredericstadt, Moss, Holmestrand, Kongsvinger, Roraas, 
Kongsberg, Laurvig, Skeen, Porsgrund, Tonsberg, Bre- 
vig, Arendal, Mandal, and Stavanger ; the population of 
each, roughly taken one with another, may be rated at 
two thousand. With these advantages, never did nation 
profit internally so little as Norway. Let us compare 
her with Scotland, and many are the points of similitude 
between the two countries. At the close of the last 
century, their respective populations did not very ma¬ 
terially differ. Both nations are nearly surrounded by 
the sea; both are intersected by those arms of the sea, 


84 


HOJRJE 


called in Scotland firths , in Norway fiords. Both have 
rude climates; though if a comparison be made with 
that part of Norway included to S. E. by my line of 
demarcation, superiority must be assigned not only in 
climate and aspect, but also in soil, (the Scotch low- 

A 

lands excepted) to Norway. Nature has condemned 
to unproductive barrenness vast tracts in Scotland; to 
the unproductive parts of Norway, she has given those 
line firs, the envy of the neighbouring nations, besides 
valuable birch, and often good oaks. The atmosphere 
of the part of Norway to which I allude, is of a bright 
lustre and elasticity, favourable to the development of 
intelligence; that of Scotland is generally obscured by 
mists, and oppressive to the spirits from its sudden 
changes. Yet with these marked advantages, what has 
Norway done intellectually and morally in comparison 
with Scotland ? I go farther, and contend that she has 
suffered less from foreign invasion, expensive wars, and 
internal commotion, than any other European country; 
consequently she has had more leisure for improvements 
of all kinds. Her silver mines are richer than those of the 
rest of Europe ; and it was not three years ago, that the 
purest and largest mass of silver ever found out of South 
America, was excavated at Kongsberg, and estimated 
at sixteen thousand dollars. Norway has not had her 
energies paralysed by a too artificial system of finance, 


JUVENILES. 


85 


like Britain ; she lias long had great resources in her 
navy, timber, mines, cattle, and stock-fish; and she 
ought to exhibit nearly as good a scheme of social order 
as Scotland, which she is far from doing. In literary 
and scientific attainments, she has not even done so 
much as the desolate Iceland, which has not a fifteenth 
of the Norwegian population; wdrich is rent asunder by 
volcanoes, and which scarcely sees the sun for half a 
year. At the same time it must be confessed that 
several improvements are taking place. A history of 
the country, in four volumes, has been lately published, 
and is well spoken of; the intendant of the Christianian 
observatory has been noticed with respect in Germany ; 
a good road is opening from Christiansand to Stavan¬ 
ger ; and the benefits of the union of the two countries 
are daily more and more appreciated. If the Storthing 
would tax doubly the ardent spirits, the cause of the 
deterioration of the inhabitants of the coasts, especially, 
and encourage the brewing of the wholesome beers ; this 
measure would effect much towards the melioration of 
their peasantry, who, left to cheap dram-drinking, will 
remain insensible to new and brighter prospects. A 
few remarks on Norway are interspersed in the philoso¬ 
phical treatise on population by Malthus. I cannot 
think it desirable that the population should ever sur¬ 
pass two millions, or a few hundreds more; for, exclu- 


86 


IIORiE 


sive of the immense numbers of acres monopolized by 
the mountains, fiords, and lakes, many hundreds in the 
lowlands are consigned to irredeemable barrenness, in 
a cold, sandyish, and hungry soil. 

Farewell, then, Norimberga ! beautiful in thy clear 
atmosphere, lakes, and rivers; in thy pensile birches, 
and in thy trembling poplars; sublime in thy dark firs> 
in thy roaring waters, and in thy precipices overhanging 
unsoundable fiords.—Land, whose birth Echo greeted 
with her thousand voices. Thou, that wast cradled by 
the Beautiful, and rocked by the Sublime fare thee well! 

October 16.—The Danish cutter, surcharged with 
deals, at last weighed anchor. On taking possession of 
a sorry berth, my selfish Muse prompted a parody from 
Horace:— 

Navis, quae tibi creditum 
Debes indigenam, finibus Anglicis 
Reddas incolumem, precor; 

Et serves animam, corpus et integrum. 

Excusably too; for we had no sooner cleared the 
Christiansand lighthouse, than Caecias and Argestes, 
bursting their brazen dungeons, made the Scaggerac 
vie with the Cattegat in heaving mountainous waves. 
Fortunately the gale w r as in our favour; and we ran the 
three hundred and twenty miles that separate Christian¬ 
sand from Copenhagen in forty-five hours, seldom daring 




JUVENILES. 


87 


to hoist more than the jib-sail. Drenched were our 
berths before reaching the Skaw, of fatal-wrecking 
celebrity, often accidentally, sometimes wilfully incurred, 
owing to ship-owners wishing to pocket that capital, 
for which they had too long paid interest to different 
insurance-companies. I visited the Danish theatre in 
the evening, where the royal family were present. 
Strange enough is the life of a traveller. A few hours 
before, I was wretched as any prisoner; and now, I was 
feasting my eyes with two flowers of the Cimbric Cher¬ 
sonese ; one a devotee of Thalia, the other of Terpischore ? 
and both beautiful proficients in their respective lines. 

Johnson has observed somewhere, that a sea-voyage 
unites the miseries of a prison to the perpetual chance 
of being drowned into the bargain. T will extend his 
definition : it unites the miseries of a prison to those of 
a sick hospital, with the chance of being drowned into 
the bargain. I reached Kiel, after passing through the 
Great Belt, in a steamer from Copenhagen, filling one 
or two of those hours of ennui incidental to a sea-voyage, 
with meditations on the present and future miraculous 
influence of that quasi invisible, intangible, and grayish 
substance, which thirty years ago, on seeing it escape 
from a tea-urn, I thought signified nothing; but is 
probably destined to effect a greater alteration in the 
aspect of the world, than any discovery that has been 


88 


HORiE 


made since the invention of typography. Kiel is cheer¬ 
fully situated at the end of a long and narrowish port, 
but too shallow for the admission of large ships. A 
cheerful beech-crowned hill rises towards the end of 
the harbour. But those who travel from Kiel to Altona, 
will do well to close their eyes; there being no object 
of interest but the excellence of the road. After em¬ 
barking at Hamburgh, I regained the Custom-house 
stairs, having been absent from London seventeen 
weeks, and having accomplished a tour of eighteen 
hundred miles; during which, it must be confessed, 
that T had scanned but superficially Scandinavia. 


THE SWEDISH ITINERARY. 

It is not easy to reduce into English measure the 
exact value of the Swedish mile. It is generally called 
equal to six, five-eighths English, or six miles and five 
furlongs. But I am certain that the practical value of 
the Swedish mile varies very remarkably. Sometimes I 
found it not more, and certainly never less, than six 
English ; at others, it was a full six and a half; and 
sometimes, a very few yards short of seven. In the 
following estimation of the space of my travels, I pro- 




JUVENILES. 


80 


pose to seek an approximating medium, by multiplying 
the total I have travelled by six, and then adding ten 
English miles to every hundred English, which, I 
apprehend, will bring the distance I have travelled in 
Sweden, to within a few furlongs of the exact distance. 


From Gothenburgh to 

Quarters of 
Swedish mile 

Agnesberg.... 

Ql 

> • • • • • • 2 

Nohl .... 

51 

■•it •••• c/ 2 

Katleberg.... 

al 

•••• •••• j ^ 

Lilia Edit 

9 

• • • * • • ^ 

Fors 

• • • • Ml* 4 

Gardhem 

•••• •••• 4 

Trolhaetta .... 

•••• ••!• 4 

Gardhem 

4 

Bursled 

o 

• ••• •••• 

Grastorp 

• in mi v/ ^ 

Tang 

• ••• •••• 4 2 

Mally 

III III! 6 

Lidkoping.... 

•••• «••• 4 

Winningen 

4 

■ ••• •••• vx. 

Han da .... .... 

4 

Skara.... 

9 

• • • • mm ^ 

Halleberg ... 

Q 

•••• •••• 

Gobhem 

u 

MM •••• 

Falkoping.... 

Q 

• • • • •••• 


t 


90 


II ORJE 


t 



Legby 
Slattang .... 
West Kar 

Dropshull. 

Jonkoping 

Raby 

Grenna 

Halkaberg 

Odestrog 

Oslad 


Molby 

Bankeberg 

Link oping 

Kumla 

Halla.... 

Norkoping 

Aby .... 

Krokek 

Wreta 

Jader 

Nykoping 

Svardsbro.... 

Aby .... 

Pilkrog 


Sodertelje 

Fittja 


.... 7 

6 

64 

3 

.... 8 
7 

.... 5 

H 

... 7 

5 

.... 7 \ 

4 

.... 6 

6 

... 5 

3 

.... 6 

5 

... 44 

7 

QI 
••• G7 2 

8 

... 74 


• • • • 


• IK 


W|m N|m 


JUVENILES. 


91 


Stockholm 

6 

Excursions there 

.... 30 

Rotebro 

8 

Marsta .... 

.... 7 

To the British Envoy’s, and back .... 

7 

Alsike 

7 

(Ml W 

Upsala 

6 

Hogsta .... 

.... 5 

Laby 

6 

Yfre 

■4 *• v • • •• •••• •••• 

..: 8 

Mahedy 

8* 

Elfcarlebv 

6 

Gefle 

V* vil\y ••• •••• •••• 

10 

*R o 

X/CiUii •••• •••• •••• 

Ql 

• • • • v 2 

Hogby 

5 

Asen .... .... .... 

>-u 

• • * • 2 

Solberga 

6 

Ronshyttan 

.... 9 

Smedby 

5 

Uppbo 

.... 5 

Sater .... .... .... 

4 

Naglarby „.. 

.... 7 

Kama .... .... .... 

5 

Djorsas 

.... 

Floda .... .... ■••• 

10 

as .... .... .... 

.... 9 


92 


HOKjE 


Jarna 

Appelbo .... 

Tungsjord 

Laggasen .... 

Asplund 

Torsby 

Dufrenas 

Stenasen 

Molken 

Prestegard 

Carstad 

Lilnor 

Maloga 

Gustavuskrogen 

Afvelsater 
• • 

Amal 
Torpane 
Hensbyn .... 
Fjall.... 
Taxviden.... 
Wagne 
Onson 
Sundby 
Hogen 


6 

.. llj 

9 

.. 6 

7 


8 

5* 

7 

5 

6 

6J 

' i 
2 


7 A 


5 

.... 4 

5 
4 


51 

4 

3 

6 


5 


574 






JUVENILES. 


93 


Which give one hundred and forty-three Swedish miles 
and a fraction. These multiplied by six, will give 
eight hundred and forty-eight English miles; to which 
I add ten per cent, amounting to nine hundred and 
forty English miles. But in including several foot and 
boat excursions, my travels in Sweden cannot be rated 
at less than one thousand English miles. 


THE NORWEGIAN ITINERARY. 

Neither is it easy to estimate the distances in 
Norway. They tell you vaguely that there are a round 
eight English in one Norway mile. Practically it 
varies even more than the Swedish. I have often found 
it a full eight English ; at other times, what I have paid 
for as a mile, has but little exceeded six and a half 
English. In my following itinerary, I propose to 
multiply the Norwegian mile by eight, and from the 
amount deduct twenty per cent, which will give a 
tolerably exact result. In Norway, as in Sweden, 
they compute by quarters of miles. 




94 


HORiE 


Hogen to 
Prestbakke 


Boe .... 


Frederickshall 
Vestgaard 
Guslund .... 

Haraldstadt 

Detour to the Falls of the Glomm 

Carlshuus 

Dillengen 

Moss.... 

Sooner .... .... .... 

Sundby 

Korsgaard 

Prinsdal 

Christiania 

Bogstad and back 

Maristad lake 

Grorud 

Skrimstad.... 


Quarters of 
Norway miles. 

.... 5 

5 

... 2 

2 

.... 4 

H 

.... 2 
5 

.... 

11 

.... 4g 

8 
01 

•»i« w 2 

5 

.... 4 

.... 4 

4 
4 


Moe.... 


3 


Frogstad .... 

Baaholt 

Minde 

Morstue 

Korsedegaard 


4 



6 

6 


J li VE NILES. 


95 


Nokleby 

MM 

4 

Frogner .... 

• • • • 

.... 5 

Hov .... 

• • • • 

q i 

• • • • tig 

Frengbjerget 

• • • • 

.... 4 

Moe .... 

• • • • 

4 1 

.... 

Fraeiig 

• M( 

A I 

Lillehammer :... 

• • • • 

.... 5g 

Gritstuen .... 

• • • • 

6 

Sveen 

MM 

.... 5 

Hund 

M*t 

4 

Musta 

• • • • 

4 A 

.... 4 2 

Rodnaes .... 

• • * 

• • • • u 2 

H*of .... .... 

• • • • 

4 

/ 

Sand ... .... 

• • • • 

.... 5 

Smedshammer.... 

MM 

6 

Ougedal .... 

• • • » 

.... 3 

Grannevolden .... 

MM 


Vang 

• Ml 

.... 6 

Klakken 

• • • • 

4 

Honefoss cataract and back ... 

.... 8 

Krukliven and back 

• • • • 

12 

Braaten .... 

• • • • 

.... 4 

Egge.... 

• • • • 

4 

Houg 

MM 

.... 5 

Vigersund 

• ••• 

10 

Bjorndalen 

• • • • 

.... 4 


90 


HORiE 


Drammen 

Detour to Paradise hill and back 
• • 

Osterod 

Revaa 

Holraestrand .... 

Brunserod 

Saalerod 

Fylpaa .... .... .... 

Sonbye 

Hakkerod.... 

Stoberod 

Laurvig 

Vasbotten 

Kolikenvold 

Slevolden 

Skeen .... .... .... 

Fjerstrand 

Detour to the Skot-foss cataract 
Bergene 

Tufte .... .... .... 

Houl-foss cataract 
Vrang-foss cataract and back .... 
Tind-foss cataract and back 
Boating from Houl-foss to Fjerstrand 
Porsgrund 
Brevig 


• • • • 


• • • • 


JUVENILES. 


97 


Udgnaard 
Rosland .... 

Odegaarden 

Hommelstad 

Holte 

Roed 

Angelstad 

Brakke 

Arendal 

Larestvedt... 

Bringsvaerd 
Bandvig .... 

Lillesand 

Tvede 

Aabel 

Lolrastand 

Christiansand 

Venesland falls and return 

Boen cataract and return 


4 

3 
6 

n 

(i 

5| 

5 | 

6 

4 
3 

Si 

3 

7 

4 

3 

4 
6 

lb- 

13 


479 


Which equal one hundred and twenty Norway miles. 
These multiplied by eight, with a deduction of twenty 
English miles per cent, will give seven hundred and 
seventy English miles, for the amount of my Norwegian 

H 




98 


II OR# 1 , 


tour; to which I add thirty miles for occasional detours 
from post-stations. 



English miles. 

The travels in Sweden 

.... .... 1000 

The travels in Norway.... 

800 


Total 1800 ' 


END OF THE SCANDINAVIAN LEAVES. 




JUVENILES. 


99 




ARCHITECTURAL LUCUBRATIONS. 


A few years since, I had some idea of offering my 
services gratis to the University of Cambridge, for the 
embellishment of the walks behind the colleges. Two 
plans floated in my brain; one I threw lightly on 
paper; the other, which I consider the preferable, I 
propose here to state verbally. 

The river Cam, as soon as it has passed King’s 
bridge, should be made to strike suddenly to the left in 
a new channel, and thus gaining the ditch at the end of 
Trinity walks, be made to flow about a hundred yards 
from the new building of St. John’s, on the other side 
of which it would form a new pool for the coal-barges, 
and this should be done at the corporation’s expense. 
The turning of the river would of course be at the 
expense of the University. A greater impetus should 
be given to the current, by throwing into its bed about 

L Cm C. 




100 


HOR JE 


twenty waggon-loads of flints, which would have made 
the stream murmur with transparency. Nearly all the 
large trees would have been cut down; and this, I 

9 

contend, would be in unison with good taste ; vast trees 
suiting well in large parks, but not in a space rather 
contracted than otherwise. They add moreover to 
damp. I should have required five or six hundred 
waggon-loads of dry rubbish, not only to fill up the vile 
green-coated gutters, but also to raise the bog behind 
Queen’s grove. The whole would have been a little 
more rising in large sweeps than now. To add to the 
rapidity of the Cam, I would have thrown out for about 
four or five feet, a brick-wall terrace from the founda¬ 
tions of Queen’s; and this would pinch Camus till he 
roared. No longer would he draw, as Gray says, his 
humid train of mud. The fa 9 ade of Queen’s should be 
finished as it had been begun, near the bridge. The 
wooden bridge should be supplanted by an iron one. 
The walks would have serpented agreeably throughout; 
meeting opposite Trinity hall, a lawn of about forty 
yards in diameter, surrounded by a clipped hedge of 
laurel, which should be suffered to grow to the height 
of six feet; against which should be placed terminal 
marble busts of twelve of the most illustrious Romans; 
while nearly opposite King’s bridge, another lawn 
would exhibit twelve of the most illustrious Greeks. 


o-'* ( > 

') 




JUVENILES. 


101 


Their likeness should be copied from the iconography 
of my late respected friend, Ennio Quirino Visconti. The 
Greeks would have been, Homer, Menander, Euripides, 
Demosthenes, Pericles, Eschines, Plato, Socrates, Aris¬ 
totle, Herodotus, Xenophon, and Thucydides. The 
Romans would have been, Cicero, Brutus, Pompey, 
Horace, Maecenas, Virgil, Julius Caesar, Augustus, 
Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, Nerva, and Titus. A hand¬ 
some and simple iron rail, with one grand portal facing 
King’s, and two equidistant lateral, should have been 
continued all the way from St. John’s to Queen’s bridge. 
The terminal busts, executed in Carrara marble, to be 
done by an able sculptor, could not cost less than 
£1200. The trees should be by no means numerous; 
the rage for over-treeing, in a damp climate like our 
own, I could never understand. Not more than two 
hundred trees would supplant the old ones; and these 
should be about fifteen or twenty planes, about the 
same number of sycamores, cedars of Lebanon, poplars, 
ashes, limes, horse and Spanish chestnuts, beeches, 
hornbeams, larches, and firs; and these should have 
been lightly grouped, not more than three or five 
together, leaving them full room to expand. I closed 
these and other speculations with the following inscrip¬ 
tion, which should have been engraved on a cippus, in 
a retired part of the walks : 


102 


HORA-: 


JUSSU AC 1MPENSA 
SENATUS ET CAPITIS 
ACADEME® CANTABRIGIENSIS 
HOS HORTOS ACADEMICOS 
VIRORUM ILLUSTRIORUM 
TAM GRiECORUM QUAM LATINORUM 
VIGINTI QUATUOR EFFIGIEBUS 
TERMINALI MORE SCULPTIS 
ET QUINDECIM SUBSELLIIS 
SITIBUS AMCENIORIBUS 
PLURIFARIAM IMPOSITIS 
NECNON 

I 

NOVIS AMBULATIONIBUS 
ET GRATIORE QUAM PRIUS ARBORUM 

s 

ET PLANTARUM CONSITIONE 
INSTRUXIT EXORNAV1T 
M. B. 

COLL. TRIN. ALIQUAND1U 
SOCIUS COMMENSALIS. 


1 judged that the above improvements could not have 
been effected under £6000. The money, perhaps, 
could hardly have been better employed; but my imagi¬ 
nation pictured, and probably exaggerated, the hundred 
and one prejudices I should have had to combat. The 
coal-meter beyond Queen’s would have bawled : “ No, 
No, I’ll hear of no pool beyond St. John’s; my barges 
have a right to pass the walks, as they have always 


JUVENILES. 


103 


done.” u If our lime-avenue is to be cut clown,” would 
cry a punning algebraist of Trinity college, “ our pons 
Ami will become pons Ami —r+s+t, or pons Ami —r.” 
Clare-hall would have fought hard to preserve her 
walled garden ; and that is clear. Some wanton fresh¬ 
man might have thought it witty to knock off the 
Stagirite’s nose, and make him look as if he had suffered 
from a disorder not alluded to in the Physica or Meta- 
physica of one of the acutest of human beings. These, 
and other considerations, made me abandon the design 
I had of submitting my services to the University; 
though my plan would have eclipsed Capability 
Browne’s, who futilely proposed to turn the course of 
the river quite on the other side of the town; which 
would have made the walks infinitely worse than they 
now are. 

Of the improvements which have taken place at 
Cambridge of late years, I can only contemplate with 
pretty general satisfaction, the new building at St. 
John’s, the improvements at Bennet, and the new court 
at Trinity college. Never perhaps were <£10,000 more 
injudiciously spent than in the skreen at King’s college; 
and the front of the Pitt-press is absolutely contempti¬ 
ble. A good opportunity is now furnished to a clever 
architect, of designing a front for the old library, such as 
Palladio or Vignola would approve, if living. 


104 


HORi'E 


T will here subjoin a few hints for the further im¬ 
provement of the University; and which may be 
brought into effect before the close of the present 
century. 

1. The total destruction of St. Mary’s church, and 
the substitution in its room of a copy of the great church 
at Ariccia in Italy; and which in my opinion is the 
chef-d’oeuvre of the Cavalier Bernini. 

2. A new Palladian front for Pembroke college, pre¬ 
serving the line of the present chapel. 

3. The resumption of the title of St. Peter’s college, 
for the establishment vulgarly titled Peterhouse. We 
have never heard of Clarehouse , Queenhouse , John- 
house ; why then Peterhouse ? 

4. The trees before Catherine-hall to be cut down; 
the whole building to be squared at the angles ; the 
front to be stuccoed with the best Roman cement; new 
windows to be inserted, with large panes, and to open 
in the French way ; the interstices between the windows 
to be set off with Doric anise, supporting the appro¬ 
priate entablature. 

Few things are more to be regretted than the adoption 
of the site chosen for the Fitzwilliam Museum. Owing 
to the narrowness of the street, the eye of a spectator 
will be unable to comprehend the architecture. How 
far nobler would it have stood near the road on the 


JUVENILES. 


105 


other side of the river, and facing the new building of 
King’s college! 

Such are my general ideas relative to the late works 
at Cambridge. 


During my late tour in Sweden, when on a visit at 
the English envoy’s, about fifty miles from Stockholm, 
I saw on a promontory jutting into an arm of the great 
Moeler Lake, the supposed site of the Odinian Sigs- 
tuna; a spot as pregnant with classic recollections, as 
any in the boasted southern regions. A bright Scandi¬ 
navian moon was silvering the Swedish landscape, and 
inspired regret that quasi no vestiges are to be traced 
of the capital of the Scythian Odin; who, a dozen 
centuries ago, darted from the Cimmerian regions, 
established his throne on the Moeler, and spread the 
light of his genius through the wilds of Scandinavia. 
Now that Sweden enjoys profound peace, could she do 
much better than spend a few thousand rix-banco, in 
endeavouring to throw a visible classic interest round 
Sigstuna ? The dry utilitarians will exclaim, yes ; the 
lovers of the most interesting associations consecrated 
by the poetry of the north, no .—Among the latter 1 
profess to be. 



100 


HORjE 


1 struck in imagination an oblong of which the major 
diameter shall be double the minor. Round this oval 
will stand fifty columns, of five feet diameter, with 
twenty feet of intercolumniation. The columns will be 
circular, without bases or capitals; exhibiting a ruin of 
a very long millennium. They should be very roughly 
hewn, and of unequal heights. Say, varying from 
about thirty feet to about twelve ; but none I think 
less, or the grandeur of the effect will be diminished. 
Four or five of them may be obliquely truncated, giving 
the idea of being struck by lightning. In the centre of 
this oval, and directly facing the east, will stand a 
mutilated pedestal, supporting a huge fragment of a 
statue of Odin. Say, only one leg and one foot, but 
of grandiose execution and size ; beneath the pedestal 
will lie half buried, the mailed trunk of the statue, also 
a fragment of his helmeted head, with half of one of his 
arms. Equidistant from this pedestal, and the remotest 
column of the oval to the left, will stand another 
pedestal, supporting a mutilated statue of Frigga, the 
Scandinavian Venus ; and with a corresponding interval, 
to the right of Odin, a truncated statue of Thor, with a 
fragment of a colossal hammer, half buried with a 
mailed arm, and a leg or two beneath the pedestal. On 
each of the pedestals will appear indistinct Runic 
characters. The fragments should be of statues, say, 


JUVENILES. 


107 


thrice the natural size. The effect of these colossal 
statues thus mutilated, would be finer in a poetic 
sense, than if entire. Neither would the cost of such 
a ruin be considerable; nearly all the expense would 
be comprised in the transportation and lifting of the 
masses. And in such works the Swedes own no 
rivals. Such a monument seen by a Scandinavian 
moon at the full, reflected in the mirror of the Moeler; 
a dozen Swedes chanting a few yards off some of the 
hymns of the Edda set to their best national airs; their 
intervals of rest taken up by the long bugle-horns of 
the shepherds, would fill the imagination with as rich a 
treat as it is possible to conceive. 

I was thus busied with my hall of Odin at Sigstuna, 
when the triste reality of the Mesta post-house, as 
mean as any cottage in Ulster, dissolved all my architec¬ 
tural dreams, grafted on the sublime legends of Ossian 
and the Edda. 


REMARKS ON SOME OF THE GREATER 
PUBLIC WORKS OF LATE YEARS. 


For a long twenty years and more, observations on 
works in civil architecture, both on the Continent and in 



JOB 


HOR.E 


Britain, have occupied several of my travelling hours ; 

and in a work printed a few years ago, on the palace 

at Windsor, I hazarded some criticisms on the principal 

works in hand, which met with the fate of all similar 
• 

labours, acquiescence to, by some, rejection by others. 
The habit I had acquired, of applying criticism to 
minor works, has long yielded to the consideration, that 
when so many were sprouting up in all directions, the 
task became endless ; also that the strictures, even if 
well-grounded, were often fruitless, seeing that the 
architects were frequently not to blame, checked as 
they often are by the caprices of their employers, and by 
the very limited sums generally placed at their disposal. 
The above restrictions ought not, however, to deter 
those who have any experience in architecture, w r hether 
professionally acquired or not, from applying criticism 
to those works, wherein our national honour is con¬ 
cerned, which serve to commemorate an important 
epoch, and which involve a great expenditure. 

Retrospective criticism is perhaps of all mental 
labour the most irksome, seeing that if it be couched in 
approval, it is nothing more than the echo of thousands; 
if in disapprobation, it can be of no immediate good, 
seeing that the works which it condemns, howsoever 
justly, are already completed, or at least determined 
upon. Those, therefore, who employ their thoughts in 


JUVENILES. 


109 


judging works already completed, can only be en¬ 
couraged by the hope, that their labours in reference to 
futurity, will not be esteemed wholly useless; even 
supposing that a sound judgment should not always be 
found to accompany their remarks. The difficulties 
that attend these considerations are very great; no one 
who handles them, being aware of the extent of the 
judgment, or creative powers of another. The same ob¬ 
servation will doubtless apply to works in every branch 
of art; but I think, more eminently to architecture 
than any other. 

Of all the obstacles to genius in architecture, local 
prejudices are perhaps the most insurmountable. Dares 
an artist to suggest a more advantageous site to the 
owner of an old house or castle ? Immediately he is 
answered by a frown, backed by the remark, that he 
must do nothing to destroy old associations. The con¬ 
sequence is that the antiquated mansion is patched 
with additions, which in nine instances out of ten, 
harmonize so ill with the original fabric, as not only to 
spoil its effect as a work of art, but also to efface the 
charm resulting from the untouched hoariness of age. 

I do not mean to assert, that the above observation is 
applicable in full force to the late additions to the 
palace at Windsor. The intelligence developed by the 
architect must in general be praised. But a question 


110 


HOR.E 


occurs whether or no local prejudices too fondly 
cherished, may not have prevented the first directing 
mind from choosing a more eligible site ; from erecting, 
for instance, on the hill above Virginia water, another 
castle in the best Anglo-Saxon style, which might have 
been done at quasi the same expense, as the additions 
to the old castle ,* which, it must be confessed, is un- 
towardly elbowed by the towns of Windsor and Eton, 
and disagreeably nosed by their thousand chimnies. 
Had this plan been adopted, the old edifice, with the 
chapel of St. George, would of course have remained; 
while a very few hundreds might have been spent on 
necessary repairs, and in converting the apartments 
into excellent dwellings for the ecclesiastical establish¬ 
ment, the poor knights, and other persons attached to 
the court. I have nothing further to state respecting 
Windsor, excepting, that the Italo-Grecian diatribe, 
which I composed some years ago, on the venerable 
castle, was written merely as an architectural essay; 
and not with the idea or hope of any thing similar 
being about to be realized. 

The improvements at Windsor have obviously been 
superintended by one conversant with the principles 
and details of Gothic architecture. But local prejudices 
and bad taste have both conspired to make Buckingham 
palace one of the worst efforts of art, that is destined 


V 


JUVENILES. 


Ill 


to mark our epoch. The intelligent Raumer has shown 
that the interior is not less objectionable than the exte¬ 
rior. Many of us remember the old square brick pile 
standing sufficiently well for a building not vast, and 
without any pretensions to architectural ornament. Illic 

siti Icetabantur Lares. Lares , artists, amateurs, and all 

\ 

dislike with reason its substitute ; which has no redeem¬ 
ing point but the Ionic entrance behind. Sir Edward 
Oust suggested some years ago, for the site of this 
palace, the highest point between Grosvenor gate and 
the Serpentine river; a position, which any one gifted 
with ever so little of the coup d'ceil , could hardly, one 
would imagine, have failed to seize. 

The position of the new Academy of Arts is certainly 
one of the best that the metropolis affords. But the 
arrangement of the wings, the smallness of the windows 
and niches, the insignificant elevation of the pediment, 
the meagre cornices, the too minutely sculptured statues 
and reliefs; together with the order itself, already 
blackened with soot, seem to be the subjects of pretty 
general animadversion. But the case of this building 
is not desperate. It may be made very handsome by 
some future architect, for a few hundreds of pounds, 
who shall have studied general effects and harmony of 
details , with more success than the actual. 

A few words on Chatsworth; which, though private 


112 


HORiE 


property, possesses from its grandeur, a quasi public in¬ 
terest. Profiting from the liberality of the noble owner, I 
have perambulated its domain several times in my life; 
and am forced malgre moi , to arrive, at the conclusion, 
that the late additions are any thing but improvements. 
It is contrary to all received principles of art to make a 
wing overtop the main building. This addition, per se 
considered, is a sufficiently chaste specimen of the 
Italian style; yet it, as well as the terrace, is constructed 
of so bad a stone, that it already presents marks of 
decomposition. I could add more on Chatsworth; but 
Harpocrates (whose bust probably is in the gallery) is 

the best commentator, when but little agreeable can be 

% 

said. 

Of the bridges, the grandest triumph of art is 
certainly that of the Menai. Thrice in my life I have 
traversed it; and had the piers, instead of a gradual 
diminution, preserved a similar diameter throughout, 
thereby exhibiting a chaster Roman grandeur, it might 
be said to baffle criticism. Both Waterloo and London 
bridges give pretty general satisfaction; and so they 
ought to do, considering their exorbitant cost. They 
manage these things better in France. The bridge over 
the Dordogne, near Bourdeaux, which I visited some 
years ago, cost about one-third of the expense of the 
Waterloo. It is quasi the same length and breadth; 


JUVENILES. 


113 


and exhibits more ingenuity iu the construction. The 
angles of its arches are flattened, with a gradual diminu¬ 
tion to the key-stone. The effect of the perspective 
occasioned by this device, is at once novel and sur¬ 
prising. 

Of the canals the details of the Caledonian have 
been so ably given by Baron Dupin, that further remarks 
are almost superfluous and unnecessary. The engineer 
has won his due meed of praise, as far as the execution 
of the work is concerned. But I am far from thinking 
that the course or direction of the canal itself is the 
most eligible. It traverses for three-fourths of its course 
a quasi uninhabited country, which can never become 
populous, owing to its barrenness. Neither is there any 
town but Inverness, likely to derive substantial benefit 
from the undertaking. For half the cost of this expen¬ 
sive work, the Forth and Clyde canal might have been 
deepened and widened sufficiently to admit of two ships 
of eight hundred tons each, passing one another; it 
might also have been flanked throughout with stone, 
and mounted with the strongest locks; of which few 
would be necessary, and the expense inconsiderable, 
when compared with the stairs of Neptune in the Cale¬ 
donian. It would be ridiculous to waste ink in expati¬ 
ating on its greater utility, traversing as it does, one of 
the most populous and industrious districts in Britain. 


I 


114 


HORjE 


The suspension bridge at Clifton, when completed, 
will only acknowledge one rival in that of the Menai. 
I am told that its utility will barely compensate the 
expense. If this should prove true, amends, in my 
opinion, will be made by the singular boldness of the 
undertaking. The error in the parallel, which lately 
occurred, was indeed a grave fault, and occasioned 
much fruitless labour and cost. The work, however, 
now proceeds with spirit, and in about two years, will 
probably be pointed at as one of the winders of our 
isle. 

Little can be said in praise of the ecclesiastical archi¬ 
tecture executed of late years. Two or three of the 
cathedrals have indeed been repaired with judgment; 
and it is easy to perceive that the spirit of Gothic, or 
rather Norman architecture, is daily better seized by 
artists, both of the metropolis and provinces. Many of 
the new churches are, however, beneath criticism ; but 
it should be remembered, that the employers of the 
architects are sometimes more to blame, than the archi¬ 
tects themselves. 

One of the happiest specimens is the church of St. 
Michael’s, lately erected at Bath. It does the more 
credit to the architect, inasmuch as he had to contend 
with the difficulties presented by a disadvantageous site, 
and by a small sum placed at his disposal. 


JUVENILES. 


115 


Of the public monuments executed of late years, 
Nelson’s column at Dublin seems to be the most ap¬ 
proved. It must be confessed the great admiral has 
been overdosed with testimonials to his deserts. Ex¬ 
clusive of what has been done at Liverpool and Bir¬ 
mingham, they talk of another monument to his memory! 
To be stationed too in Trafalgar Square, and detract 
from the effect of the Academy of Arts ! A bronze 
statue above the steps in the colonnade at Greenwich 
college, would surely be more appropriate. The public 
taste too bids fair to be overdosed to nausea with the 
monuments of Waterloo. That in the Phoenix Park in 
Ireland is a poor and disagreeable effort of art. 

To apply criticism to the statue in Hyde Park, would 
be only repeating what has escaped from a million of 
lips. Scarcely does a work exist in Europe, more un¬ 
satisfactory in allegory and design. In my visits 
to the Roman, Florentine, Neapolitan, and French 
Museums, I do not recollect having seen an equestrian 
Mars; pedestrian I remember pretty often. The first 
in bronze, and springing from a pedestal of granite, 
stationed at the end of the canal in St. James’s Park, 
and directly facing the arch of the Horse-Guards, would 
have exhibited something pertinent both as to allegory 
and site; novel too in design, for if equestrian Marses 
exist, they are certainly rare. Even so facile a concep- 


116 


HOR^E 


tion as a group of ancient cuirasses, helmets, halberds, 
and swords in bronze, picturesquely grouped on a cubic 
granite pedestal of nine feet, and stationed as my 
proposed Mars, would have eclipsed the unmeaning 
figure in Hyde Park defending itself against the air. 

Of the two triumphal arches I will only observe, that 
individually contemplated, they are not ill-designed. 
But they are ill-stationed; and their Corinthian foliage 
attracts the soot, as effectually as bird-lime sparrows. 
The money expended on both had better have been 
employed in the erection of an archway with three 
portals, marking the approach to the city. Set off 
with the Doric of Vignola, and surmounted with a 
Victory in her car, in bronze, the triple arch to those 
approaching from Kensington, could not have failed to 
present a satisfactory and imposing effect. And this 
would have sufficed, in London at least, to commemorate 
Waterloo. 

Comments on that rabid Waterloo commemoration 
mania, if extended further, would only sink into 
common-place observations. I will conclude for the 
consideration at least of the subscribers, by quoting a 
beautiful reply of the Emperor Alexander of Russia to 
the Senate of St. Petersburgh. To that body who had 
proposed a splendid monument to him when living, he 
replied : “ If I shall appear to have done any service to 


JUVENILES. 


117 


Russia after my death, then, and not till then, will be 
the time for erecting any monument to my memory.” 
An answer worth twenty statues, voted to any one 
while living, by an overweening enthusiasm. 

But the most important of the public works remains 
to be considered ; and since it is destined to involve the 
expenditure of a million of money, some have said 
double that sum, it is well worth while to stir the public 
attention, by bringing criticism to bear more particu¬ 
larly on the great work in hand, and which may at 
once be divined, the new Houses of Parliament. 

Without further preamble, I will state at once my 
reason for objecting to the site. Aware as I am of the 
great difficulties that invest all topics of this nature, 1 
w r ill couch my criticism chiefly in the interrogatory form. 
And in the first place, I ask with what view has the 
proposed site been chosen by the architect ? Can any 
one be blind to its being one of the sootiest, lowest, and 
consequently dampest, that the metropolis affords ? Is 
our veneration for the position of St. Stephen’s, and the 
infallible wisdom of our ancestors, to supersede every 
other consideration ? Why incur the heavy expense of 
a vast embankment, which the choice of a site remote 
from the Thames, consequently drier and healthier, 
would render unnecessary ? Would it not be more 
plausible to leave the venerable Westminster Hall in 


118 


HORiE 


the centre of three sides of a square, two of the sides 
presenting gable ends parallel with the end of the Hall, 
and in the first and simplest Gothic, devoting the Hall, 
and its environing appurtenances, to the gentlemen of 
the long robe only ? Surely this will appear far prefer¬ 
able to the great majority of architects and amateurs to 
the plan proposed by Mr. Barry; for what a Babel of 
architecture must meet the eye from his huddling 
together the old Hall and new buildings, both of 
different styles !—Vitruvius ranks among the first quali¬ 
fications of an architect the judicious choice of a site, in 
which, I fear, Mr. Barry, if his plan be adopted, will 
prove himself, or his employers (for architects have often 
this salvo) very deficient; for the fogs and smoke of 
London, the bane of architecture, brood in the site of 
the old Houses of Parliament as much as in the City 
itself. To diminish this disadvantage as much as possi¬ 
ble, what position then would a happier coup-d'ceil 
than that which the architect and his employers possess 
propose ? Without pretending to declare it the best, 
I should select, as preferable, the site of old St. James’s 
Palace,—a vile heterogeneous frabric, on the demolition 
of which no one, I guess, would write an elegy. The 
style should be Elizabethan, that being an order 
characteristically British ; each of the Chambers to have 
two vast oriel windows looking towards the Park; the 


JUVENILES. 


119 


avenue to Buckingham House to be cut down; the 
whole building to be of stone ; the interior of the House 
of Lords to be impannelled with Norway oak; the 
principal mouldings, with the roses and other ornaments 
in the ceiling, to be set off with the richest gilding. A 
similar plan might be adopted for the lower Chamber 
with less splendid ornament. The throne for our young 
and amiable Queen to be simply a chair of British oak, 
and of the richest Elizabethan form, with a simple 
velvet crimson cushion, and not presenting, as in the 
consumed House, a glittering and ridiculously expensive 
gew-gaw. The advantages of this site would be very 
great in reference to its contiguity to the New Palace, 
situated within two stones’ throw; while the only dis¬ 
advantage would be a five or six minutes’ walk through 
Storey’s Gate for the lawyers wdio might be summoned 
to attend either House. But this inconvenience would 
nearly be done away by having apartments annexed to 
the Houses for the reception of those lawyers who 
might be called to either House. Were this plan to be 
adopted, only consider the difference of the estimated 
expenditure. Two different estimates I have seen of 
Mr. Barry’s project; one of ^£500,000, the other of no 
less a sum than 700,000 and odd pounds. With the 
fullest confidence I assert, that my three sides of the 
new square to enclose Westminster Hall, to be devoted 


120 


horjE 


only to legal affairs, would not cost more than £60,000, 
built of best brick, and faced, as would be sufficient both 
for effect and solidity, with four inches of best Portland 
stone, worked in the style of the earliest Gothic epoch. 

I can, too, with equal confidence assert, that the sum 
of £440,000 would be sufficient, in the hands of an 
intelligent architect, to build in the first manner, and all 
of the best stone, the Elizabethan fabric, which he could 
arrange, with all its necessary appurtenances of library, 
record, committee, and waiting-rooms, for the above 
sum. Thus, if the estimate of 700,000 and more pounds 
be devoted to Mr. Barry’s work, my St. James’s Park 
and Westminster plans would be covered by the first 
estimate, viz. £500,000. But enough of objections 
relative to the site of the new florid Gothic Houses ; 
proceed we to the reasons why I, and luckily for me, 
many hundred others, reprobate the style of Mr. Barry’s 
plan. And first, T ask, did the architect and his con¬ 
trollers consider duly the nature of the London climate 
and atmosphere, before he or his employers favoured us 
with his florid specimen of Gothic ? Did they turn their 
eyes to the condition of Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, 
which, though re-cased with Bath stone, some ten or 
twenty years ago, has now nearly the same begrimmed 
complexion as its parental abbey ? And what is the 
cause of this dingy hue, the bane of all delicate archi- 


JUVENILES. 


121 


lecture for at least a six-mile radius from the centre of 
London ? The neglect, I reply, of adopting the simplest 
style of Gothic, if it be to be adopted ; though I 
apprehend that every wise architect would rather pre¬ 
fer, if not the Elizabethan, which has fewer mouldings, 
the Tuscan and Doric of Palladio, Scamozzi, or Vignola. 
But waiving further disputations on style, is it not ex¬ 
traordinary that the architect, having the example of 
the untoward effect of Henry the Seventh’s Chapel 
before his eyes, should have persisted in giving us a 
plan of even richer Gothic, consequently presenting 
more nests for the deposit of the soot ? Unfortunately, 
the London atmosphere is, of all others perhaps on our 
globe, the worst adapted for the exhibition of the deli¬ 
cacies of any florid style of architecture, and the last 
character of Gothic may be as plausibly reprehended 
for adoption, as might be the richer ornaments of the 
architecture of Asia Minor, or the Arabic of the Alham¬ 
bra, or the yet more delicate chiselings of the Taj-M&l 
at Agra. It would be in vain to refer, in answer, to the 
authority of the wisdom of our ancestors, whose shill, 
though often to be praised, was as yet in its infancy, and 
who had much to say in vindication of their errors, seeing 
that London sent not forth in their time the ten-thousandth 
part of the volumes of smoke that it does now. It must 
also be observed, that the quality of the smoke and soot 


122 


HOR.E 


is far more deleterious than formerly; blended as they 
are with many chymical acids, discharged from numerous 
steam-chimneys, those too multiplying daily on both 
sides of the river, and on the river itself. This per- 

* 

nicious soot will not require, as formerly, a century to 
decompose the stone. Ten or fifteen years will be 
sufficient, acting as it will on the numerous delicate 
mouldings, which the adopted plan exhibits ! I pretend 
not to criticise Mr. Barry’s interior, not possessing the 
necessary data whereon to ground my judgment; but to 
return to the consideration of his exterior plan, I ask, 
what meaneth that centipedal tower, necessarily of 
exorbitant cost, with which he menaceth us ? Towers, 
as authorized by Gothic architecture, are of two kinds, 
military and ecclesiastical. A tower attached to the 
castle we all feel to be in its element, as is a tower 
attached to a church, to serve as a belfry. Doth he 
mean that cannon should be pointed from it downwards 
to keep Radicals and Conservatives in proper order ? If 
so, I object not, in an architectural sense, to his tower. 
Or doth he mean, that a belfry should be attached to it 
to summon our Queen and both Houses to their duty, a 
rope attached to a clapper above, and close to the 
Speaker’s chair, to spare him the trouble of crying 
“ Order ?” If so, I know not that the tower is condem- 
nable, unless it be in the triple view of its entailing a 


JUVENILES. 


123 


vast and useless expenditure, of being a very incon¬ 
venient receptacle for the records, and of its exterior 
presenting a mass of smoky blackness within ten years 
after its erection. I am aware that many may urge, in 
. reply to my criticism, “ Would, then, your Houses, 
built on the site of St. James’s Palace, be free from 
smoke ?” Not altogether, but in a much less degree, 
I answer, with the additional advantages of sparing the 
cost of the great embankment; of presenting a drier, 
healthier, and more cheerful place of rendezvous for 
both Chambers, and of being far more easy of access for 
our Sovereign, peers, and representatives. 

Would not, I ask, a judicious architect renounce the 
site of St. Stephen’s, not only for the above-mentioned 
reasons, but also from the consideration of the bad effect 
of so many vast edifices being cumbrously piled in the 
immediate neighbourhood ? First, we have the old 
Hall, one of the largest in Europe ; then comes, within 
a stone’s throw, the old murky Abbey, from which the 
sweepers might collect at least one hundred bags of 
soot; within twenty paces of this stands St. Peter’s 
Church, as untowardly situated as possible; a hundred 
yards behind rises the Westminster Hospital; and now 
we are to have the vastest Gothic pile ever conceived 
within a stone’s throw of all these buildings ! 

Is it not extraordinary that the architect was unable 


124 


HORiE 


to foresee that the sooty vapours must be accumulated 
in a tenfold degree more than heretofore, from the cir¬ 
cumstance of such a multitudinous assemblage of piles 
being so closely huddled together, and necessarily di¬ 
minishing the circulation of the air? that this confined 
contiguity must also reciprocally destroy the effect of 
each building? Have we not reason to wonder that 
the least experienced of the amateur commissioners 
should not have been struck by these conclusions ? that 
they, as well as many members of either House, should 
have hesitated for a moment to open every battery of 
opposition to the adoption of the old site ? a No, no,” 
they cry, or in nearly tantamount words, “ better be stoned 
like St. Stephen, than abandon the site of his venerable 
chapel. Who cares whether a building be black or 
white ? Destroy, indeed, the noble pile of St. James’s, 
the favourite abode of our eighth Henry; that fabric 
which attracts and fixes the eyes of all Europe, to make 
way for our new Houses of Parliament! As well might 
be proposed the pulling down of St. Paul’s, or the new 
bridge of Waterloo.” 

But it is useless to preach against the force of preju¬ 
dice, more remarkable in this country, in many par¬ 
ticulars, than in any other. Of this delectable element 
of mind John Bull has always quaffed his full measure ; 
and had the wisdom of his ancestors decreed to fix the 


JUVENILES. 


125 


two Houses of his Parliament close to the fog gy Whit- 
tlesea Mere, and had a travelled person suggested 
sundry other spots more preferable, honest John would 
not fail to exclaim, “ Whittlesea Mere was ordained by 
my ancestors to be the eternal site of the Parliament 
Houses, so shall it remain.” It is this same prejudice 
that blinds so many of us to the absurdity of the 
Thames Tunnel, a work which has been interrupted by 
three or four irruptions, which in a commercial view is 
comparatively useless, seeing the neighbourhood of the 
bridges; which impales with rheumatism for life, or 
subjects to drowning, so many clever workmen; which 
few will enter, if ever completed, but once or twice for 
curiosity ; and which, if by dint of vast labour it may 
be rendered at first tolerably free from dripping, cannot 
long remain so, from the percolating effect of the action 
and re-action of the tides : to a work, in short, which 
can confer no credit to the architect and his advisers, 
the primary error being the too inconsiderable descend¬ 
ing curve. To return to the great question of the 
Houses of Parliament, wherein so many important con¬ 
siderations lie, perhaps something might be effected for 
furthering the adoption of a more advantageous site and 
plan, by those artists and amateurs who may side with 
me in opinion, (and I know there are several) signing a 
powerful protest against the work in agitation, and sub- 


126 


HORiE 


mitting it through some Member to any future Committee. 
Let us hope, however, for the honour of sound taste and 
judgment, that the Commissioners have not irretrievably 
adopted this, in my opinion, highly objectionable plan 
of Mr. Barry. I know not the man, neither do 1 foster 
against him the least personal grudge. Let us hope, I 
repeat, that before final adoption, they have yet time to 
weigh most scrupulously every detail of a plan which 
involves so great an expenditure, and wherein our cha¬ 
racter as to discretion in a work destined for centuries, 
both in relation to our posterity and enlightened 
foreigners, is so eminently concerned. 

I will conclude with observing, that if a more advan¬ 
tageous site should hereafter be chosen, the expenses 
already incurred by the embankment, need not inspire 
regret; one, though on a more contracted scale, being 
desirable to set off Westminster Hall, and the neigh¬ 
bouring buildings. With these remarks I bid farewell 
to any further architectural criticism ; fatiguing, as may 
be imagined, for one who has travelled more than twice 
the circumference of the globe. 


JUVENILES. 


1*27 


ORIGIN OF THE ORDER CALLED GOTHIC. 

Numerous have been the publications during the 
last thirty years, on that vexata quaestio , the origin of 
the architectural order, called by some Gothic; by 
others, pointed. During my rambles on the shores of 
the Mediterranean, I often amused my horcc subsecivce 
with speculations thereupon; without, however, being 
able to arrive at a completely satisfactory conclusion. 
The general result of my observations on this interesting 
topic, aided by the perusal of eight or ten works on the 
subject is: first, that the order is not of English inven¬ 
tion, nor of French, nor of Italian, nor of German; 
which last Mr. Hope, in a late elegant and instructive 
work, has laboured to establish. To borrow a biblical 
metaphor, I am tempted to consider this beautiful order, 
as nothing more or less than a Translation from the 
Arabic into Norman; notwithstanding that I am aware 
of its having numerous adscititious ornaments, unknown 
to the Arabs. In the same manner, that several original 
expressions, and novel thoughts, are to be found in 
Dryden’s translation of Virgil, not authorized by the 
Roman poet, so have many ornamented inventions been 
tacked on to the Arabic original in the Norman version 


1*28 


HOR^E 


of their architecture. Every thing tends to strengthen 
the probability of this theory. Abundant are the proofs 
we possess of the Normans having been the most 
stirring and enterprising people at the period of the 
propagation of this order, erroneously called Gothic. 
Moreover, nothing is more plausible to believe, than 
that among the thousands of the Norman crusaders, 
several gifted with a natural taste for architecture should 
have specially directed their minds to the contemplation 
of works, not long before erected by the Arabs, when in 
the zenith of their glory; and that a few of these 
crusading amateurs should have added in their draw¬ 
ings, some inventions of their own ; subsequently so 
modified and altered, as to draw indeed a very marked 
line of distinction between the Arabic and Norman 
styles; but not sufficiently so, as to efface the primitive 
features of the Arabic archetype; with the reciprocal 
resemblance of which, those, who like myself, have 
visited the principal Arabic monuments in Spain and 
Sicily, cannot fail to be struck. Additional strength is 
added to this conclusion, by the marked resemblance 
of many of the Saracenic castles to those erected by the 
Normans, soon after the first crusades. Such is the 
view I take of what I would rather call Norman , than 
Gothic , or pointed architecture. 


PORTFOLIO SCRAPS. 


K 














































































































































PORTFOLIO SCRAPS. 


SUPPLEMENT TO DEAN SWIFT’s PUNNING EPISTLE ON THE 
NAMES OF THE BRITISH POETS. 

The Dean ends with the words : “ as grave as a 
Pope.” 

Yet Poetry was not altogether extinct; for soon after, 
we saw one Sam * as he /feeding a good deal to stiff¬ 
ness in thought and style. One Goldsmith too wrought 
some fine ore, dug from the bowels of Parnassus. The 
Pleasures of Imagination often turn to pains, and give 

an Ache in side to the reader. But Paeon was still 

• 0 

propititious, and nerved his Arm strong to shoot health 
among us, and not the plague, as in the first Iliad. “ I 
attacked the Grecian Muse, I Clove her in twelve parts 
at Thermopylae,” cried another climber up Parnassus. 
But poetry was no longer in Clover , and poetasters 
swarmed. However, Apollo surprised one day the dull 


* Johnson, same in name as Ben. 




132 


HOR^E 


competitors for the laurel by pointing at a Minstrel, and 
exclaiming: “ Hero’s one that shall eclipse you all, ay, 
completely Beat ye” Him another succeeded, more 
affected with melancholy than inspired with true genius; 
but who consoled himself by saying: “Though my 
muse may be heavy on the wing, I Coop her in my 
solitary retreat, and pen her by yonder style .” “ Dare 

win !” cried Euterpe one fine summer morning, holding 
up a chaplet of flowers to a youth somewhat distrustful 
of his talents, and pensive in a garden of sweets. “ For 
one Hail ye ! must I say a thousand times Ail ye, ye 
fulsome poetasters, Ail ye still ?” said Apollo in spleen, 
at the trash which was one day presented to him. But 
the Battle of Hohenlinden suggested some deep-toned 
animating lines, which sounded as from a Camp hell 
announcing the couvre-feu to a whole army. Many a 
thought that breathes, that Burns , a voice from Coila 
uttered. Ye critics, you are in the right; another’s 
muse derives her attractions rather from the east, than 
from the South ye think. Subsequently oriental fictions 
darted forth in Moore lustre; but never found another 
Moor to batten on. “ Laurel leaves ought to bud from 
Boles,” said a Muse one day, as she was looking at a 
sprig she had gathered, somewhat languid, and requir¬ 
ing more sun to vivify it. “ I take Scott for lot,” cries 
Caledonia, exulting in one, whose genius sing S cott , 


JUVENILES. 


183 


feudal hall, and dungeon keep, with equal interest. 
About the same time, another votary appeared, seeking 
Parnassus by an oblique road, and resembling a Crab 
in his sideling gait up the mountain.* Note several 
Words worth praise, rhyming in some tender poetry. 
“ By'r own lady,” sigh the critics, “ Poesy is dead; for 
she’s placed her Bier on , in the road to eternity.” 


LINES COMPOSED AT VERONA, JULY, 1816, AFTER VISITING 
THE SEPULCHRE OF GIULIETTA CAPELLETTI, IN THE 
GARDEN OF THE FRANCISCANS. 

Let affectation droop her head and mourn 
Disastrous love o’er tender Juliet’s urn. 

Coquettes avaunt! away each simp’ring belle ! 

Envv the lot of her who lov’d so well; 

Who would not have exchang’d her heart-felt woes, 

For your ephem’ral loves and midnight shows. 

Hail, Juliet, hail! whose pure and virgin heart 
Dar’d act so painful, yet so true a part! 


* Crabbe’s poetic style lies in a sort of devious track. 



134 


HOR^E 


O’er whose requited love, and early hearse, 

Great Shakspeare sheds the glory of his verse— 

Hail, Juliet, hail! whose name is intertwin’d 
In the same wreath which Fame wove for his deathless 
mind. 


LINES WRITTEN AT FERRARA, ON QUITTING THE PRISON OF 
TORQUATO TASSO, OCTOBER, 1816 . 

From fields where lucid Po reflects the skies, 

Antique Ferrara’s spires and turrets rise; 

The seat of Mars, the Muses’ haunt of yore, 

But sages’, wits’, and heroes’ boast, no more. 

Those domes where lavish art with nature vied, 
Unpeopled squares, and silent ways divide. 

Here, where through untrod stones the nettle springs, 

A lazar-house expands her mournful wings; 

Where meek-ey’d Charity the wretch befriends, 

And through the groaning wards his succour lends ; 
Within a court is seen ; and underneath, 

A darksome cell, fit tenement for death; 

Arachne there her scanty prey enthralls 
In film suspended from the dripping walls— 



JUVENILES. 


185 


A den so dark, so cheerless, damp, and low, 

Would overwhelm gaunt Cerberus with woe. 

’Twas there a fiend in human form confin’d 
The frame which harbour’d great Torquato’s mind.— 
Methinks as here I stand, the bard appears 
Tended by grief, and nourished by his tears ; 

By day, both hands sustain his drooping head, 
Distemper’d dreams add terrors to his bed; 

His fretted wrists he wrings, his eye-balls roll, 
Imaginary fiends beset his soul.— 

Where’s she, who on her knees, to loose his chains 
Might intercede—repuls’d, could soothe his pains ! 
Base Este, who to cruel bonds decreed 
Him who Aminta sung, and Sion freed. 

When through thy halls, with wit and beauty gay, 
The night was taught to emulate the day, 

Could’st not one moment from thy revels steal, 

And from a dungeon’s contrast learn to feel ? 

Ah, wretch ! could sev’n long years no pity move, 
Whose child was honour’d by a Tasso’s love ? 

His anguish’d soul, his high poetic art, 

Could they not move the stony from thy heart ? 

—See Tasso mount on high with laurels crown’d, 
Saints cheer their guest, and seraphs smile around; 
Mute are their harps, and the celestial choir 
Steal inspiration from the poet’s fire— 


J 36 


HOEiE 


But thou, fell Este, in the gulph below, 

Shalt drain the chalice of his earthly woe, 

Nor shall thy tortur’d breast a heav’nly Sion know. 


SOME ONE WROTE A PENTAMETER VERSE ON A CUPID, CUT 
BY THE LATE MRS. DAMER. I SUBJOIN ITS COMPANION. 

Cl AM at Amor gracilis sumens e marmore formam: 

“ Non me Praxiteles fecit, at Anna Damer.” 


ON MRS. DAMER, 

IN THE STYLE OF DEAN SWIFT. 

De ath, the tamer, 
Conquers Damer; 

Ne’er defame her, 

When you name her ; 

Spleen ! don’t maim her 
Skill, nor blame her; 

Talent, claim her! 

Carvers, frame her! 




JUVENILES. 


137 


1 won’t ram her 
Hard with lamer 
Verse, nor stammer 
Trash to cram her 
Ghost.—Don’t shame her 
Muse, nor hammer 
Out more sham or 
True rhyme—d— her. 


TWO CHARADES, WRITTEN IN FRANCE. 

Ma tete a bas crains de le devenir, 

Si tu veux conserver ton nom sans tache; 
A moil entier tout lecteur s’attache, 

Et gronde, s’il passe le jour sans me tenir. 

2 . 

Les geometres visent mon premier; 

Tu es mon second, chetif homme; 

Tu le mesures, savant astronome; 
L’Europe admire, et craint mon entier. 



138 


HORjE 


II y avait a Paris deux actrices distinguees par leur 
beaute, et leurs talens, quand je m’y suis trouve, il y a 
quelques annees. J’ai remis a elles quelques compli- 
mens en vers, selon l’usage parisien. 


A MADEMOISELLE VALERIE, QUI NE PREND JAMAIS REPOS LES 

DIMANCHES, DANS SON ROLE DE GEORGETTE DANS LE 

/ 

VAUDEVILLE INTITULE, “ LA SEMAINE DES AMOURS.” 

Les actrices, Valerie, au nord de la Manche, 

Font un jour de repos de chaque Diraanche. 

Mais tout Paris 
Veut a hauts cris, 

Que la Valerie 
Cette loi renie. 

La Semaine d’Amour a Moise rebelle, 

Ne connait jamais jour de repos pour elle. 


% \ 

A LA MEME. ESPECE DE CHARADE. 

Je fus la maitresse autrefois 
Du plus majestueux des rois, 




JUVENILES. 


139 


Qui, par droit de naissance, 
Gouverna toute la France. 

La meme, et pourtant differente, 
Est celle que Thalie vante, 

Qui joint au sel de Moliere, 
L’attrayante delicatesse 
Et Pagagante tendresse 
De la gentille premiere. 


THE GENIUS OF THE GARDEN OF THE THUILERIES TO 

MISS LEONTINE FAY. 

u Though trees now deck’d in brightest green, 
Throughout my avenues are seen, 

Though carols every bird ; 

Though snowy swans by Zephyrs fann’d, 

In basins rare their plumes expand, 

Where wat’ry music’s heard : 

il Though flow’rs by thousands scent the air 
That I inhale from each parterre, 

Though Dian’s form I own ; 

Though Meleager strikes his boar, 

And marble spares my ears the roar, 

■» 

Though Venus smiles in stone : 



140 


hora: 


“ Though with their swains two nymphs with art 
Express’d, like Atalantas, dart 
Across my velvet grass; 

And though my wat’ry mirrors give 
Reflections true of gods that live 
In marble or in brass : 

£< And though my terraces invite 
Lutetia’s dames to court delight, 

And praise me to the skies; 

Ask’st thou, Leontine, if I’m lent 
Sometimes a brighter ornament 

Than these ? Yes, fair ; your eyes.” 


LINES ADDRESSED TO THE GRAY HORSES WHICH DREW 
MISS SONTAG FROM PARIS TO HER VILLA. 

Let others, whom Homeric lays 
Transport, Achilles’ coursers praise; 

Who, as the poet tells us, held 
Converse in th’ ensanguin’d field. 

Let others Virgil’s fancy feed, 

Empurpling Dido’s snorting steed ! 



JUVENILES. 


141 


Let Ovid’s genius others stun, 

As he recounts how Phaeton 
Misled the coursers of the sun. 

Be’t mine to spread the choicest straw 
For the gray steeds that Sontag draw. 
Not wild like those of Phaeton, 
Obedient they in harness run ; 

At Favart’s theatre they stand, 

Attentive to their queen’s command ; 

♦ 

With glist’ning eyes they seem to own 
Their mistress’ lineage from the Sun. 
Soon as Euterpe from the choir 
Exclaims: “ No longer will I tire 
My sweetest Sontag—all retire”— 
Retireth she ; and reassumes 
Her matin robe from coarser looms. 
Disdaining histrionic toils, 

She clears her way with Hebe’s smiles ; 
With such as she was seen to shine 
Among her playmates on the Rhine. 

In the same tone conversing sweet 
To all, she nimbly gains the street; 
And in her chariot leaps, (and O 
The pow’r of harmony below !) 

Her steeds with ears supine, with hair 
Sleek, and with nostrils flat, declare 
Their joy at getting back the fair. 


142 


HORiE 


No bad blood’s trac’d in Sontag’s grays ; 
Their hoofs they playfully upraise, 

And watch askance their mistress’ gaze. 
They sneeze at her approach ; their manes 
Float intertwisted with the reins ; 

They prove, with hin-nin-hee salute, 

A higher nature than the brute. 

Thrice happy steeds, that Sontag draw! 
You own, too, Music’s sov’reign law. 


INSCRIPTION FOR A STATUE OF APOLLO, TO BE ERECTED AT 

BATH. 

Quis neget hie varias Phcebum regnare per artes ? 

“ Et jure,” ipse refert, “sunt mihi Solis Aqu^e.” 


IMPROMPTU ON PASSING THE CHURCH AT VEVAY IN SWISSER- 
LAND, WHERE GENERAL LUDLOW, ONE OF CROMWELLS 
OFFICERS, WAS BURIED. 

Vivis, et in gremio mortis, Ludlovie, vivis; 

Num moreris, mortis dum ferit hasta Vivis ?* 


* Vivis is the Latin name of Vevay. 




JUVENILES. 


143 


IMPROMPTU ON HEARING THAT SIGNOR CERVETTO, A DIS¬ 
TINGUISHED VIOLONCELLIST, HAD NEARLY ATTAINED HIS 
HUNDREDTH YEAR. 

Cervetto Musico, osservo 
Che non solamente nel nome, 

Tu ti rassomiglj al cervo, 

II quale un secolo dome, 

Del sole godendo del lome,* 

Malgrado del tempo i danni— 

Grida la Natura: “ Cospetto ! 

Ha quasi passato cent’anni, 

E ride con fresco aspetto, 

Vincendo il cervo, Cervetto.” 


STANZAS, "WRITTEN AT ROME ON SEEING A PORTRAIT OF 
MACHIAVELLI, BY ANDREA DEL SARTO. 

O Di govern’ egregio maestro ! 

Da chi li stati fiorire sanno, 

A cui i regi sono sottoposti, 

Pur’ i tiranni. 


* Dome, lome, vecchie parole usate dal Dante. 



144 


HOR.E 


I baroni, la strepitosa plebe, 

Sentono per te loro stazioni, 

Nel tuo stile rapido, e secante, 

Roma risplende. 


I ministri scelgono da tuoi 
Scritti ricercati, precetti sani 
Per saper stender dominazione— 

L’ambasciatore 


Cone tra sospetti paesi, dunque 
A1 suo va, l’ansieta nel petto, 

Plausi rubando debiti all’acuto 

Machiavelli. 


11 Secondato piglia sovente 
Dal tuo cervello cos’ alt’ assai; 

Traono da te i Capitani certe 

Regole d’arte. 


L’ira rugge nella profonda volta; 
E’l cuor cessa lacerare, dal gran 
Niccolb sbandita fremente tralle 


Sedi dolenti. 


JUVENILES. 


145 


Con piacer, la Storia alta, pura, 

Del Fiorentin l’onorando fronte 
Cinge con allori virenti sempre, 

Cinge Talia. 

Mostra con orgoglio dove giaccion 
L’ossa del grand’ istruitor di stati; 

Mostra—ne d’altrni piu si vanta 

Alina Firenze. 

% 

L’ammirator dei repubblicani 
Stati, di scaltriti tiranni stessi, 

Sempre dira con venerazione, 

“ Niccolo grande!” 


O IN DELICIAS, ET IN OTIA MOLLIA NATA 
PARTHENOPE ! QUANTIS SUASISTI CARMINA PICIS 
CONDERE, QUOS ET EGO INTER, CUM ME DETINUE RUNT 
PAUSILYPIQUE SPEC US, ET LITTORA MURGELLINA ! 

During my three visits to Naples, I frequently en¬ 
joyed the company of Mr. Mathias, whom death has 
lately snatched. He has left behind him the double 

L 



146 


HORjE 


character of an amiable man, and of having been the 
first Italian scholar that England ever produced. 


TRANSLATION OF AN ITALIAN SONNET, COMPOSED BY SIGNOR 
GODARD, PASTORE DEI ARCADI, AND SENT TO MR, MATHIAS. 

/ 

Euterpe, say, if he whom Arqua’s shrine 
Entombs, hath op’d his eyes on Sorga’s stream ; 
Surely he’s born where Arno’s waters shine 
’Tween Flora’s tow’rs—Ah, me, I fondly dream— 
Thy margin owns his birth, O lordly Thame ! 

There was he cradled, there he conn’d the tongue, 
Which, as recounts Ausonia’s letter’d fame, 

At once through Dante to perfection sprung. 

Hail then, I cried, O bard of Britain hail ! 

Th’ Arcadian school applauds thy racy lay, 

As do the Delphic streams, and sacred wood; 

To less inspired spirits point the way: 

From Pallas’ haters shake the drowsy mood, 

That make them go from Dirce’s fount astray. 


I had written a lyrical amplification of Godard’s 




JUVENILES. 


147 


sonnet. Mr. Mathias observed I could surely preserve 
the sonnet form; I sent him the above, with the 
following: 

Take then, in English, learned Godard’s sonnet; 
Ne’er to a sonnet was I put before; 

And twice sev’n verses have I spent upon it, 

Without one syllable or letter more. 

Irksome the law that binds the poet’s sense, 

Like wine through strainer in decanter pour’d ; 

Rare is the talent, that within the fence, 

Can to translation spirit due afford. 

Th’ Italian easier than the Briton rhymes ; 

Yet if I’ve fail’d to hit the shepherd’s targe 
In the bull’s pupil, pr’ythee join to his, 

At least my Salve , and affection large.— 

Therein mine aim I’ve taken not amiss— 

May health detain thee long from Charon’s barge ! 


Visiting, one morning, Mr. Mathias at his lodging in 
Pizzofalcone, I happened to stand with him at his 
window, which overlooked a garden, in which was a 
marble statue of Flora; the window was latticed with 



148 


HOILE 


iron, and on its ledge were two flower-pots filled with 
flowers. I inadvertently leaning forward, struck one, 
and smashed it. The accident occasioned the follow¬ 
ing fable:— 


DAMjETAS, strephon, and flora. 


Statues, as legends tell in Greek, 

Have heretofore been known to speak. 
And feel too.—Lately this occurred 
At Naples;- take me at my word.— 

In garden there, a Flora stood, 
Flow’r-crown’d, in sweetly pensive mood. 
Of marble, white as drifted snow, 

And gazing on parterres below. 

Two swains, as people oft akin do. 
Together stood at lattic’d window; 

Which did a view command in full, 

Of Flora on her marble stool. 

And the main subject to be brief on, 

One was Damsetas, t’other, Strephon. 
Both saw the goddess, both admir’d; 

And both a kindred passion fir’d. 

It happen’d, that expos’d to air, 

Two flower-pots of earthen ware 


JUVENILES. 


149 


Stood before each, of substance frail 
As love, or friendship : this my tale 
Vill in the sequel show. The Queen 
Of gardens saw their heads between 
Her fragrant stores, and in a vein 
Of pleasantry, to banish pain 
For Zephyr’s absence, thus in jest, 

And frolicksome, her thoughts express’d : 
u Ah me ! ah, where’s my Zephyr flown ? 
He leaves me here to pine alone, 

And quite forget myself to stone. 

But what see I ? Two lovers ? Stars ! 
Imprison’d too ’tween iron bars. 

My virtue then is safe.—But love, 

And true, those flow’rs of mine do prove. 
Cheer, Flora, cheer thy drooping heart; 
For both, with lively bouquets smart, 
Study for thee Dan Cupid’s art. 

But let me, Venus, nearer see 
Their age, their ev’ry quality. 

--Upon my word, two pretty lovers ! 

One, not a hair his temples covers; 

And t’other, though he younger be, 

Too penseroso is for me. 

Propitious this for love—But I 
Cannot stand here all day to sigh ; 



150 


HOlt^E 


These are my Zephyr’s rivals ; these 
Are doing all they can to please. 

I will discover in what fashion, 

One can at least reveal his passion. 

I’ll take the tall one at a venture; 

For love I grant him an indenture — 

Now let me see how he’ll present 
Those flowers, which no doubt are meant 
Love’s pledge.”—These words she scarce had said, 
When am’rous Strephon bow’d his head 
In admiration of her beauty, 

And hit the vase, but not his duty. 

—Down fall carnation, myrtle, rose ; 

From shatter’d bowl the water flows. 

The goddess saw the flowers bruis’d, 

The vessel crack’d, the sw^ain confus’d; 

Damaetas too with anger rent; 

Though he profess’d the same intent 
Of off’ring flowers to assuage 
His flame, though pent in iron cage. 

Thus Flora Zephyr’s loss beguil’d, 

And triumph’d in her prank, and smil’d. 

MORAL. 

Ye lovers all, who fain would strive 
To fan a flame, and make it thrive; 


JUVENILES. 151 

Your passion learn from this to fix 
Before the age of lustres six ; 

Or if a later flame your fate is, 

Court not behind an iron lattice. 


When at Cheltenham, some years since, I proposed 
to the proprietor of the ground where the Thames rises, 
to lay out a few guineas in making the spot more pictu¬ 
resque. This I proposed to do at my own expense. 
But the owner of the estate being a minor, leave was 
refused me. Had I obtained it, the following lines 
should have been engraved on a rustic stone at the head 
of the seven springs. 


M. B. 

SEPTEM EONTES TAMESINOS 
AUXIT ET EXORNAVIT 
S. P. 

“ Fontibus heus ! septemgeminis, Tamesine, fruare 
Cheltia Naiadum fluvii pulcherrima clamat: 

“ Laetior usque petas mare quam prius. Ecce recessus, 
Saxosos, gelidos, tua queis admermuret unda; 

Quos arguta inter tibi jam respondeat Echo.” 



152 


HORjE 


When the sun was glowing in Gemini, 1 visited, 
some time since, Holwood, formerly the retreat of the 
Hon. William Pitt. Hard by, is the source of the river 
Ravensbourn; which, as I was in a fanciful mood, 1 
thought might be embellished in the grotto style, with 
a raven in relief, sculptured above; for whose beak I 
imagined the following lines: 

“ Your ear, good traveller, is craven, 

To listen to an honest raven, 

Who owes his tongue, like you, to heaven. 

You, from the moment you are born, 

Fate hurries to some destin’d bourn ; 

And though you’re wiser, ’tis averr’d, 

Than me, a plum’d and prating bird, 

Your bourn your wisest can’t discover, 

Toil as they may, till all is over, 

And quench’d in death. My bourn I’ve found 
Not under, but above the ground. 

Whether through life I joy, or mourn, 

Content I find at Ravensbourn .” 


JUVENILES. 


153 


VERSES WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT TROLHiETTA IN 

SWEDEN. 

Grandia Psammetichi jactet molimina Memphis, 
Saxaque Daedalea concava facta manu ; 

Et plaga devinctis Lucrina superbiat undis, 

Fucino et educta, Marsica terra, lacu; 

Conjugis exultes ulnis, Tamesine, Sabrina?; 

Effossos montes Gallia ad astra ferat; 

Et Scotia, artificem cumulatis laudibus effer, 

Qui binum marium jungere novit aquas. 

“ Est mihi et instar opus,” subridens Suecia clamat; 
Et simul ostendit claustra, Trolhaetta, tua ! 


On overhauling an old album at Trolhaetta, I found 
some Greek anapaests, left there by Viscount Royston, 
several years ago. I copied them, with a melancholy 
pleasure, having known him at Moscow before the con¬ 
flagration. Of his bones long since is coral made ; he 
having met a watery grave off Memel, on his return 
homewards. I subjoin a translation of his impromptu. 
“ Hoc saltern fungar inani munere .” 



154 


HO RM 


Ila^ra EeEmkev <i?vcrig avOpimroig, 

’A fXEV EV KoXlTW KpVTTTEL yUtag 
'Ispog K£vdfX(f)V, a <$£ KCU 7TOVTOV 
n Op(pVpOE(TOriV KVfJLCLTO. (3 EvBeGLV . 
AXX' ovk cipyoig, ov rE\yr\g arcp, 

H /XEv apurrrjg Qvyarrfp aocfnag 
Avtt] S’spyojy ovket aidpig, 

Kv/xara 7 ToXXei, (pciLVEi yaiag 
K EvQfJLWva (3aOvv, ycurag ftavdpog 
<&vXXoicrt 2v(pov 
M.T]7ror£ XrjyEi GTEtyavovaa. 

PeiOpa TpoXsTTag, Oav/xa ic)£trdai, 
TiM/iara KaOapcov airo KprjVL^wv, 

SiK07TeX 0L TCLKpOl, CLVTpCL T£ N V/X(f)LOV, 

ActGKiog vXt], kcu c)pocro£i()£g 
K prjvojv (pcyyog, Oeioi t avEfxoi, 

'Oi avrrfyjug Kprfvojv KcXadu), 
M.r)7ror£, firiTroTE Xrj£,ofxai v/xtov. 

♦ 

Kind Nature, of her gifts profuse, 
Displays her treasure for man’s use ; 
Whate’er’s conceal’d in hallow’d caves 
Of earth, or under ocean’s waves. 

On honest industry she smiles, 

And grants the boon of zealous toils ; 
But turns away from artless sloth : 
Unto the sage she, nothing loth, 


JUVENILES. 


155 


Reveals the myst’ries of the deep, 

And those which earth’s abysses keep 
Secretly seal’d, and crowns with bays 
The brow of him that merits praise. 
Trolhaetta ! wondrous to behold — 
Streams from purest fountains roll’d— 

Ye cliffs precipitous, and woods, 

That throw your shadows o’er the floods 
Impetuous hurl’d, and which diffuse 
So far their snow-eclipsing dews. 

Ye gusts, that so divinely blow, 
Responsive to the roar below.— 

Shores with caverns quaint indented, 

By Scandinavia’s nymphs frequented.— 
My mem’ry’s treasures these—No, never, 
Never of these shall time bereave her. 


VERSES WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF THE MONASTERY AT 

VALLOMBROSA. 

Hail to thy snowy steeps, and darksome pines, 

Fam’d Vallombrosa! Britain’s Homer erst 



156 


HORiE 


On thy sequester’d haunts poetic glance 
Enraptur’d cast, and with thy Paradise 
Embellish’d Hell. Thee do I visit glad, 

Though lustres eight and more have something dimm’d 
My vital lamp; though travel, thought, and care, 

Have pal’d enthusiasm’s meteoric fire. 

Yet don’t, Etruria’s lov’d retreat, to me 
Appear, as whilom to Miltonic Muse, 

When Apennine’s rude gusts bade sigh thy pines, 

And strew with crispen leaves thy silv’ry brooks— 

No, rather, vale umbrageous, do I court 
Thee, howsoe’er to holy musings dear, 

Now that the zephyrs kiss the nascent buds, 

And clust’ring violets perfume thy dells ; 

Now that Vicano’s fount Narcissus’ blush 
Reveals, and feather’d choristers attune 
Their chant beneath Ausonia’s lustrious heav’n. 

Hail then, but most when Maia bids thee smile, 
Encircling thee with zone of jocund green, 

Gemming with crystal drops thy beechen crown ! 


JUVENILES. 


157 


E LEGY 

ON THE DEATH OF AN AFFLICTED LADV. 

Mary ! the tomb shall not upon thee close, 
Without the meed of sympathetic tear. 

For though Adversity with iron rod 
Thy spirit scourg’d for twice ten years and more, 
Blotting that beam divine, that more or less 
All mortal clay illumines, still my youth 
Paints in remembrance dear, those social hours 
Enliven’d by thine heart’s spontaneous flow, 

As yet unstricken, when assembled friends 
Thy presence greeted, and thine absence felt; 
When they could read upon thine honest brow 
Joy for each other’s joy, woe for their woe, 

And writ in fairest character of truth : 

They little dreaming what a change was near! 
And whence that dismal change, that could divest 
Thy finer essence of its hue, and make 
All nature to thine eyes one dreary void ? 

Was it disgust, or suddenly conceiv’d, 

Or long in secret rankling, at the wrongs, 

The vice and follies of this wayward world ? 


158 


HORJE juveniles. 


Or was it, that thy soul too sensitive, 

Bled from affection pledg’d, and not return’d ? 

Or was thy penance heav’nly mystery ? 

—Vain our surmises all, though ’twould appear 
Disaster thee not likely to befall : 

For easy manners, and religion free 
From gloomy superstition’s base alloy, 

And temp’rate habits grac’d thy girlish years, 

And in the complete woman shone confirm’d— 

But hark ! that elder sister of thy sire, 

Than whom a purer sp’rit ne’er grac’d this earth, 
Long since an angel, and whose name thou hadst, 

i 

Enjoining silence, whispers from the spheres, 

“ God chastens those he loves.”—With this solace, 
Believ’d by seers, and stamp’d in Holy Writ, 

My heart’s outpouring, and my Muse’s, ends. 


END OF THE HORJ1 JUVENILES. 


PART THE SECOND. 


COMPRISING 


THE H 0 RiE ROMANCE. 



















































II OR.E ROMANCE. 


Thrice in my lifetime have I visited the Eternal 
City ; and one of my favourite evening drives at Rome, 
was to the ruins of Fidenca, to which you pass through 
the Porta Salaria. Castel Giubileo occupies the site, 
which is nothing more than a collection of two or three 
farm houses. Its distance from the city gates corres¬ 
ponds exactly with that assigned to it by Strabo, 
namely, forty stadia, or five miles. Nibby, in his 
Viaggio nei Contorni di Roma, has given a description 
of the very few ruins still seen there ; and he adds an 
interesting sketch of the history of the city. But this 
road is memorable as leading to the scene of the death 
of Nero, which, we know from Suetonius, took place at 
the villa of Phaon, at the fourth milestone from the 
Porta Salaria. This tragic event occurred at the farm 
now called La Serpentara. I had visited a few years 
before Arpino, the birth-place of one of the best of 
the old Romans, and now I resolved on visiting the 


M 



162 


llORM 


scene of the death of not only the worst of the Romans, 
but perhaps of the human race. I could not help 
shuddering as I saw the cave, which still exists, and 
into which the emperor refused to enter; as I surveyed 
the small pond, where he quenched his thirst, and 
which is now called il laghetto della Serpentara. It is 
from the acropolis of Fidenae, whence the spectator may 
command one of the most interesting reaches of that 
river, which by many modern tourists has been much 
calumniated, by being called nothing but a muddy 
stream. We are all privileged to take our school-boy’s 
satchels in our memories, while rambling about Rome ; 
and on contemplating from the hill of Fidenae the rich 
yellow, and deep vortices of Tiber, I washed away the 
detractions heaped upon him, by repeating the well- 
known lines: 

Quo te cunque lacus, miserantem incomtnoda nostra. 

Fonte tenet, quocunque solo pulcherrimus exis ; 

Semper honore meo, semper celebrabere donis, 

Corniger Hesperidum fluvius regnator aquarum; 

Adsis, 6 tandem, et propiiis tua numina Jirmes ! 

Montesquieu observes somewhere, that the narration 
of the death of Nero, by Suetonius, is the chef d'oeuvre 
of that biographer. It is a paragraph well worth atten¬ 
tion ; inasmuch as it pourtrays, better I think, than in 


ROMANCE. 


163 


other authors, the dreadful workings of a spirit surcharged 
with turpitude and crime. The only English translation 
I have seen of it has woefully the odour of having been 
done for some quondam Jacob Tonson, at half-a-crown 
or three shillings per sheet. I have tried to abide more 
by the spirit of the original, in the following :— 

“ The universal hatred being stirred against the 
emperor, he was compelled to be the butt of every 
imaginable reproach. A toupee was affixed to the head 
of one of his statues, with the following inscription in 
Greek : c Now at last we shall have a ivrestling in good 
earnest also, ‘ Give over at last.' On the neck of 
another of his effigies was tied a goat-skin bag, to which 
was suspended the label : 6 Take all that I have to 
give thee , a goat-skin sack—but thou knowest well that 
thou deservest the ox-hide On several of the book¬ 
stalls appeared the pasquinade : ‘ He has wakened the 
Gallic cocks by his singing .’ Several persons pretend¬ 
ing to quarrel at night with their slaves, frequently 

* The first of these pasquinades alludes to Nero’s theatrical 
wrestling. The second, I suspect, to his irregular debaucheries, 
implied by the goat-sack, though he rather deserved the ox-hide 
sack, in which parricides were sown up and drowned. The third, 
while it puns on the word Gallus (cock) alludes to the rebellion in 
the Gauls, fomented by Vindex; whose name explains the point 
of the last. 


104 


HORiE 


shouted out: ‘ We want a vindicating Vindex .’ Nero 
was moreover greatly agitated by what was revealed to 
him through visions, auspices, and omens, both of late 
and old date ; for he, who was never before accustomed 
to dream, saw in his sleep the rudder of a vessel, which 
he himself was steering, torn off suddenly ; he dreamed 
too that he was dragged by his wife Octavia into the 
obscurest darkness; and that he was beset by immense 
swarms of winged ants. He saw too in his dreams, 
those statues which represented the conquered nations, 
stationed opposite Pompey’s theatre, circumvent him, 
and hinder him from advancing further. Sleeping, too, 
he saw the hinder parts of his favourite Asturian pony 
turned into an ape’s face, his head alone preserving the 
natural form, and neighing musical sounds.* From the 
mausoleum of Augustus, the doors of which flew open, 
a voice was heard, summoning him by name. His own 
household gods, decorated for a sacrifice on the kalends 
of January, fell from their positions in the midst of the 
ceremony. He presented to Sporus, who was entering 
on his official functions, a ring enclosing a gem, on 

* To those, who weigh attentively all the circumstances of 
Nero’s life, this dream will appear to be probably the bitterest 
irony ever invented by the imps of hell, wherewith to punish 
accumulated guilt. I have no doubt that Nero saw it. 


ROMANCE. 


165 


which was sculptured 4 the rape of Proserpine As 
he was numbering the public votes, at a crowded assem¬ 
bly of the state functionaries, the keys of the Capitol 
were with difficulty found ; and as a public recital was 
made in the senate of a portion of a speech he had 
delivered, inveighing against Yindex, which had pro¬ 
fessions to this import: 4 I wilt see that the criminals 
shall suffer condign punishment; 4 Thou shalt see it ,’ 
was the universal cry, 4 O Emperor P Tt was remarked 
also, that the last play in which he acted, was the 
(Edipus in exile , and that his voice faltered at this 
line: 


4 My wife, my mother, and my father, all. 

Do press me forward to my fatal fall/ 

As he was at dinner, he received letters reporting the 
rebellion of the other imperial armies; which, when he 
received, he tore them to pieces, and smashed on the 
floor two cups, to which he attached particular value, 
which he called his 4 HomericsJ from their having been 
embossed with subjects from Homer’s poems. He 
then ordered Locusta to bring him poison; and having 
put it in a box of gold, he hurried to the Servilian 
Gardens. There he despatched the most faithful of his 
attendants to Ostia, with directions to equip the fleet, 


16 (> 


HOHvE 


and plan a scheme of escape with the tribunes and cen¬ 
turions of the praetorian guard. But several of these 
turning their backs upon him ; several openly denounc¬ 
ing him; and one among them repeating the Virgilian 
hemistich : 

‘ Is then our final end so sad a thing ?’ 

Nero’s mind was torn by doubts and uncertainties. 
One moment he thought of throwing himself at the feet 
of Galba and the Parthians; one moment, of addressing 

the public in mourning, and as piteously as possible, 

/ 

begging pardon for his past offences, from the rostra; 
flattering himself at the same time, that if he could 
make no satisfactory impression on their minds, he 
might at least get off with a prefecture in Egypt. Some 
time after, a speech was found in his writing desk, 
drawn up to the above import; but it was generally 
thought, that he was deterred from its delivery by the 
fear of being torn to pieces by the populace, before he 
could reach the Forum. Having postponed his deter¬ 
mination to the following day, he leaped suddenly from 
his bed, about midnight, as soon as he had understood 
that the imperial guard had removed from their stations; 
to inquire into the particulars of which, he gave com¬ 
missions to his friends. But since none of them returned. 


ROMANCE. 


167 


he, accompanied by a small retinue, knocked at the 
dwellings of each of them—all the doors were closed 
against him—no one gave him an answer. He returned 
to his dormitory, which his chamberlains had quitted, 
having removed his bed-furniture, and the box of poison. 
Immediately he earnestly asks for the gladiator Spiculus, 
or any assassin, by whose hand he might die; and no 
one presenting himself to his entreaties, he cried, 6 Have 
I then no friend , no enemy V And he darted headlong 
forward, as if determined to throw himself into the 
Tiber. Nevertheless he recovered himself from that 
impulse, and looked around for some sequestered retreat, 
wherein he might recruit his spirits. His freedman 
Phaon offered him the use of his suburban villa, which 
stood between the Salarian and Nomentan ways, about 
the fourth mile-stone from the city. As his feet were 
naked, and as he had only his under-garment, he threw 
round his body a cloak of a dull colour; and having 
covered his head, and holding a handkerchief before his 
eyes, he sprung on his horse, accompanied only by four 
followers, among whom was Sporus. An earthquake, 
with thunder and lightning, happened at the time of his 
departure, which scared Nero, who heard from the 
neighbouring camp the clamours of the soldiers, por¬ 
tending dire events to himself, and prosperity to Galba. 
He met also some travellers on the road; of whom one 


168 


HORiE 


said, 4 These are going in pursuit of Nero another, 
4 I say , is there any thing known in town about Nero V 
It happened that his horse started at the scent of a 
putrefying carcase in the road; and as he uncovered his 
face, he was recognised, and bowed to, by an aide-de- 
camp of the prsetorian guard. The party, on arriving at 
a bye-path, dismounted their horses, among shrubs and 
brambles; and Nero contrived, but with difficulty, to 
gain the back entrance of the villa, only by making a 
path for his feet with his cloak. There Phaon endea¬ 
voured to persuade him to take refuge in a cave, formed 
by excavated sand; which suggestion he refused, saying, 
4 I will not enter the earth alive.'' He then paused 
awhile, to give time to his attendants to effect for him a 
passage to the villa unobserved. He thirsted; and 
wishing to drink, he drew with his hand the water of a 
neighbouring drain, exclaiming the while, 4 Behold the 
sherbet of Nero P As his robe was torn to pieces by 
the brambles, he levelled the mounds that obstructed 
his progress; his horse was led through the entrance of 
the cavern, to a neighbouring recess, while he threw 
himself on a mattress, stuffed with old straw, having at 
its head a small pillow. Presently, feeling the pangs of 
hunger and thirst, some one offered him brown bread, 
which he rejected with disdain; he drank, nevertheless, 
a little warm water. Then each of his companions used 


ROMANCE. 


109 


all their endeavours to persuade him to emancipate him¬ 
self, as soon as possible, from his impending disgrace; 
and yielding to their solicitations, he ordered his grave 
to be excavated in his presence, having given the mea¬ 
sure of his own body; also to procure, if possible, any 
fragments of marble that might be at hand ; water also, 
and wood for his funeral pile; shedding tears as he 
uttered each of the directions, and exclaiming at the 
same time, ‘ What an artisan do I perish P In this 
interval, he darted at and seized despatches brought by 
one of Phaon’s couriers, and he read therein, ‘ that he 
had been judged by the senate an enemy of the state; 
that he was sought for , and that he was condemned to 
suffer the punishment decreed by ancient laws? He 
asked of what nature was that punishment; and on 
being informed that he was to be stripped naked, and 
have his neck inserted in the stocks, and be flogged to 
death; panic-struck, he seized two daggers, which he 
had brought with him, and having run his finger along 
the blade of each, he sheathed them again, saying, ‘ My 
fatal hour is not yet come P One moment, he would 
beseech Sporus to lament and weep; another, he would 
entreat some one to encourage him to suicide, by first 
setting the example. The next minute he would re¬ 
proach his own cowardice, exclaiming, in Greek, ‘ My 
life is despicable—it becometh thee not , Nero; it be- 


170 


hora: 


cometh thee not. Thou ouglitest to wake in this dilemma • 
Come , come , come, bestir thyself P And now a troop of 
cavalry drew nigh, who had received orders to bring 
him back alive; as soon as he noticed their approach, 
he cried with faltering voice, in the Grecian language: 

* The sound of pacing steeds assaults my ears 

and he applied the point of the sword to his throat, 
Epaphroditus, his master of requests, pushing at the 
hilt. A centurion rushed in, and found him gasping; 
he applied his cloak to the wound, pretending to help 
him. Nero could only say, £ You've shown fidelity — 
but late.' And with these words he breathed his last; 
his eyes so sternly staring, so starting from their sockets, 
as to paralyse with fear and horror all the by-standers.” 


THE ALSIAN FESTIVALS 

Were to Rome what Greenwich fair is to London. In 
the correspondence of Marcus Aurelius and his tutor, 
the stoic Fronto, lately given to the literary world by 
Angelo Majo, I find two or three entertaining letters, 
descriptive of the fair. “ Can I,” says Fronto to his 
imperial pupil, “ be ignorant, that for four whole days 
you have given way to sport and relaxation of mind at 



ROMANCE. 


171 


Alsium ? I doubt not that you have gone so well pro¬ 
vided for the enjoyment of the fair at your marine villa, 
but that you should take a nap at midday; but that you 
should summon Niger to bring books to you; and that 
as soon as you feel an inclination for reading, you would 
polish your mind with Plautus, replenish it with Accius, 
console it with Lucretius, and inflame it with Ennius. 
That if he brought you Cicero’s speeches, you would 
listen to them; that you would now and then ramble on 
the retired beach, and even among the splashy marshes; 
that you would occasionally embark on a water-party, 
or listen, on a fine day, to the clamour of the boatswains 
and rowers; that you would then promote a powerful 
perspiration at the baths; and that you would then cele¬ 
brate a right royal banquet.Tell me then, I beg, 

my good Marcus, did you go to Alsium to hold a fast ? 

.Where is the bow that is always strung ? The 

garden always turned up by the spade, wants manure; 
without it, it will no longer produce herbs and vegeta¬ 
bles. The soil, to be productive, must sometimes lie 
fallow. How did your ancestors act, whose energies, 
profiting by occasional relaxation, augmented the re¬ 
sources of Rome ? Your great grandfather Trajan, a 
distinguished warrior, now and then delighted in plays; 
he was, moreover, a tolerably hard drinker; and yet, 
through his prowess, he gave occasion to the Roman 




172 


HOIliK 


people to drink to his health, at the celebration of his 
triumphs. We know too, that your grandfather Hadrian, 
a shrewd and learned man, not merely desirous of ruling, 
but of perambulating the world, was much devoted both 
to vocal and instrumental music. He delighted also in 
excellent cheer. Your own father, so conspicuous for 
his modesty, temperance, and piety, occasionally visited 
the wrestlers exercising; he angled now and then; and 
had buffoons to amuse him. Not to mention Caius 
Caesar, the determined enemy of Cleopatra, or Augustus, 
Livia’s husband, can you imagine that Romulus, when 
he killed so many in close combat, and dedicated his 
spoils to Jupiter Feretrius, prepared himself for these 
exploits by a rigorous fast? By Jove, my friend, I can¬ 
not think that any one fasting ran away with the Sabine 
lasses. I say nothing of our venerable Numa, who 
passed a great part of his life in supervising profane 
sacrifices, in arranging dinners and suppers, and in 

establishing fairs.What think you of your own 

Chrysippus, who made himself a borachio daily ? And 
we may infer from the symposia, dialogues, and epistles 
of Socrates, that he was a knowing and facetious mortal. 
You have, then, waged an eternal war against pleasure 
and relaxation of all kinds. Be it so. But at least do 

not deprive yourself of necessary rest.Do let 

sleep mark the limits of night from day; do take this 




ROMANCE. 


173 


my advice, whether you be inclined to treat it lightly or 
otherwise. I will now amuse you with an allegory, 
illustrative of this; and with the same gravity wherewith 
I penned the praises of Smoke and Dust. Why should 
I not devote the same enthusiasm to praising Sleep ? I 
beg you to imagine two illustrious beings, Vesper and 
Lucifer, marking out each his respective limits, and that 
Sleep proposes to be the umpire; both the disputants 
saying, that they are wronged by his interference. Ac¬ 
cording to tradition, Jupiter, when he created the world, 
and all that therein is, clave Time with one blow into 
two equal parts ; and one of these he invested with light, 
the other with darkness; consigning business to the 
first, and repose to the latter. Sleep was not yet born; 
no mortals then closed their eyes; instead of sleeping, 
they only rested. By degrees, the ever restless spirits 
of men devoted equally day and night to toil, but no 
stated time to repose. Soon after, it is said that Jove, 
when he had observed that quarrels and recognizances 
ceased at night, and that night itself put a stop, as yet, 
however, ill-defined, to human activity, came to the 
determination of naming one of his two brothers super- 
intendant of night, and the time devoted to repose. 
Neptune, when summoned, objected his many and 
heavy maritime concerns, and that if called away by 
other duties, the waves would overwhelm the whole 


174 


IIOILE 


earth with its mountains; the winds let loose, would 
extirpate the crops and woods, and would shake all 
nature to her foundations. Old Pluto pleaded, that 
he had difficulties enough in keeping close and secure 
his infernal mansions; that Acheron was not easily 
banked up with separating dikes, from the Stygian 
pool and marshes; that it was necessary for him to 
watch Cerberus, whose business it was to keep those 
ghosts at bay that might wish to regain the upper 
regions, with his triple gaping jaws, and triple rows of 
fangs. Jupiter having put the question of the presidency 
to the other deities, remarked, that the trouble of watch¬ 
ing more or less repays itself; that Juno, for the most 
part, was busied by night with women in labour; that 
Minerva, the patroness of the arts and artists, was 
generally disposed to be vigilant; that Mars often 
changed the scenes of violence and treachery by night; 
and that Venus and Bacchus specially patronised those 
who were night-watchers. After further counsel, Jupiter 
determines on creating Sleep ; he enrols him among the 
host of heaven, assigns to him the supremacy over night 
and repose, and consigns to him the keys of the eyes. 
Jupiter also tempered with his own hands the juices of 
various herbs, wherewith Sleep should lull the hearts of 
mankind. The herbs of security and of pleasure were 
gathered from the celestial gardens; but from the gar- 


ROMANCE. 


175 


dens of Acheron the herb of death was plucked. From 
this he distilled a small drop, mixing it with the others, 
about as much in quantity as the tear that falls from a 
hypocrite’s eye. c Sprinkle this,’ he said, 6 over the eye¬ 
lids of men; all who have had their eyelids moistened 
therewith, will fall down, and remain immoveable ; but 
never fear, for they will still live, and presently rise, 
when they shall have awaked.’ Jupiter, moreover, 
affixed wings to Sleep, not like the ankle-pinions of 
Mercury, but braced, like those of Cupid, to the shoulder. 
‘ You have no business,’ cried he to Sleep, 1 to rush 
upon the human eyelids with the noise of a troop of 
horse, or with the frequent flappings of a pigeon’s 
wings; but you ought to glide smoothly, and win 
thereto your noiseless way, after the manner of swallows.’ 
Moreover, to the intent that Sleep should be sweeter to 
man, he provides that pleasant dreams should be fre¬ 
quently his companions; so that one should see in ima¬ 
gination what pleases him most—that the applauder 
should face the dreaming actor, the dreaming flute- 
player, and the driving charioteer; that military men 
should conquer in their visions, and generals triumph 
in theirs; and that dreams should restore travellers to 
their homes. And for the most part these dreams are 
foretokens of the truth.—I am, therefore, of opinion, my 
dear Marcus, if you have any need of dreams of this 


17 () 


HORjE 


nature, that you will court Sleep, at least for so long as 
may be necessary for you to realize, when awake, your 
nocturnal visions.” 

The above is the best and the least mutilated of the 
letters that passed between Fronto and his illustrious 
pupil, on the subject of the Alsian Festivals. 


As the motto which I adopted for directing my ex¬ 
cursions round Rome was, Juvat ire locis qua rara 
priorum orbita , I selected a fine day in the summer of 
1823 for a visit to Ardea, exactly twenty miles in a 
south-western direction from the city walls, and about 
four from the sea. Of all the more ancient cities, it 
preserves more perfectly than any other, the fortifications 
of its acropolis, which surround a volcanic rock, cut 
expressly to make it isolated. But these walls of 
the citadel are the only objects that Ardea now presents 
to the antiquarian. As near as I can conjecture, they 
may describe, no where rising higher than twenty feet, 
an irregular circumference of a short mile. Two or 
three cottages, in a deplorable state of dilapidation, and 
a small church dedicated to St. Peter, stand within the 
precinct of the citadel. In vain I searched for the re¬ 
mains of the Temple of Juno mentioned by Pliny, and 



ROMANCE. 


177 


wherein were celebrated paintings by Ludius, a Roman 
artist. History, nevertheless, furnishes some records of 
the ancient capital of Turnus. Virgil attributes its 
foundation to Danae, the daughter of Acrisius of My¬ 
cenae. Pliny and Solinus coincide in opinion with the 
poet. But Dionysius of Halicarnassus says that it was 
founded by, and derived its name from, Ardea, one of 
the three sons of Ulysses by Circe. Ovid, in the play 
of his fancy, consigns the city to the flames, after its 
capture by .Eneas; and makes a heron, phoenix-like, 
spring from its ashes. It sustained two wars against 
the Trojans, in the last of which, according to Dionysius, 
Eneas met his fate. From a very early epoch, it must 
have been of considerable importance, for before the 
days of Tarquinius Superbus, the Ardeatines, conjointly 
with the Zacynthians, founded Saguntum. The inha¬ 
bitants formed a league with several other Latian cities 
to re-establish the Tarquins. Subsequently, Camillus 
retired hither in voluntary exile. In a successive cen¬ 
tury we discover from Livy, that the old Rutulian capital 
was not quite so tractable as the Consuls hoped to find 
it; for it persisted, with several other cities, to refuse 
its quota of troops and money to the metropolis; and 
its obstinacy could only be subdued by the all-eloquent 
argument of force. The Emperor Hadrian endeavoured 
to revive its splendour. In the ninth and tenth cen- 


N 


178 


HORiE 


turies it suffered total ruin from the incursions of the 
Saracens; and such has been its condition to this day. 
But Ardea, to compensate its unwholesomeness, is rich 
in historical and poetical reminiscences. A young 
woman, tolerably well dressed for so wretched a place, 
was sitting before her cottage door, busied with the 
distaff, of probably no better shape than what was 
handled by the virtuous wife of Collatinus. The flap 
of my coat happened to strike the distaff, as I brushed 
by in a hurry, and nearly upset it. Immediately the 
fine features of the spinster were suffused with a colour 
which almost made her appear worthy of being des¬ 
cended in a right line from that Lucretia, the disregard 
of whose blush by Tarquinius, twenty-three centuries 
ago, changed the whole face of the government of Rome. 
Probably within twenty paces of her humble dwelling, 
arose that fatal discourse on the merits of their wives 
between Tarquin and Collatinus: “ Non verbis opus 
est ; paucis id quidem horis possumus scire quantum 
cceteris prcestet Lucretia mea .” This signal for the 
establishment of the consular government was made 
then within a few yards from the spot where I stood; 
and the recollection of that important revolution was 
heightened by the accident of my coat nearly upsetting 
a distaff, and causing momentary blush to suffuse the 
cheeks of an Ardeatine Lucretia of Anno Domini 1823. 


110MANVE. 


* 179 


But Collatia, the scene of Tarquin’s ravishing strides 
towards his design, was situated near the Anio, not far 
from the arches of the Aqua Alexandrina , and about 
the eighth mile-stone from the city, and not far from the 
ancient Gabii. 

The Virgilian Muse too has shed an eternal interest 
round the environs of Ardea; and I passed a sultry two 
hours in rambling among the ilex coppices, now fre¬ 
quented by wild boars and buffaloes, with my old 
school-fellows, Nisus and Euryalus; never to be for¬ 
gotten by those who have been introduced to their 
acquaintance in an episode, surpassin g,for the manner 
in which it is told , all those of the Iliad. In vain I 
searched for some solitary apple-tree, a chance survivor 
of the “ apple-bearing grove of Anna Perenna.” Yet I 
followed the rough banks of the thrifty Numicius, into 
which that Ardeatine Ophelia precipitated herself. 
How magical is the power of genius! Most of the 
places to which Virgil has set his seal, retain to this 
hour their ancient names ; and conspicuous among them 
is the antiquated capital of Turnus : 

-locus Ardea quondam 

Dictus avis, et nunc magnum manet Ardea nomen. 



180 


HOJRiE 


THE MALARIA 

Seldom attacks persons at Rome who have passed their 
fiftieth year, or thereabouts. The first impulse is less 
to be dreaded than the succeeding. I had agreed to 
make with a friend a pilgrimage to Corese, the ancient 

Cures, in the Sabine mountains, and nineteen miles 

% 

from Rome, out of respect to the memory of Numa 
Pompilius, who was born there; but the fever struck 
me on the evening before our concerted journey. The 
pain at first was moderate; and I was clear of it after 
keeping my bed for a fortnight. I went to Sienna, 
celebrated for the purity of its air, where I naturally 
anticipated a speedy recovery of my strength. After a 
ten days’ residence there, I did not gain ground; and I 
resolved on returning to Florence, with the view of 
being within the range of good medical advice. I had 
scarcely reached Poggibonzi, when I was attacked by 
violent vomitings, and the fever returned with tenfold 
violence. I kept my bed from the beginning of August 
to the middle of November, 1832. Severe was the 
suffering; but the worst symptoms were a certain con¬ 
stringing agony in the region of the heart, in comparison 


ROMAN M. 


181 


of which the alternate successions of hot and cold fits, 
and the phantasmagoria of visions, out-doing the 
monsters developed by the gasmicroscope, were nothing. 
I owe my attack to the ancient Veii. Veios migrate 
Quirites, non ego rursus. The modern Iso hi Farnese, 
a collection of two or three farm houses, exactly ten 
miles from the Porta del Popolo, stands on the ancient 
citadel; where I saw a very deep and capacious well, 
with an extraordinary echo, and one or two frusta of 
columns. I traced in part the ancient walls, which, as 
I was informed, were seven miles in circuit. I found 
only one object of great interest, and that is an emissary 
of the river Cremera, of Fabian celebrity, cut through a 
small hill for about two hundred yards. It is now 
called il Ponte Sodo. Of great antiquity is this work, 
attributed by Nibby to the Etrurian Veientes. Here 
the chill air entered my open pores; and I was attacked 
by repetitions of the fever at Naples, again at Rome in 
1833, at Monterosi, at Foligno, at Parma, and at Milan; 
neither could I eradicate completely the disease till my 
lungs inhaled the Alpine air. For this horrible malady 
I am indebted to Virgil; for having been desirous of 
procuring the most probable likeness of the first of the 
Latin poets, it took a longer time than I imagined to 
study the busts preserved in the Campidoglio and 
Vatican ; and so I loitered in Rome much longer than 


182 


H0RJ2 


I otherwise should. The malaria may be said to be 
the scourge of a full half of the Italian peninsula. It 
rages more or less in all the lower parts of the Tuscan 
and Calabrese Appennines. In Mantua it is very bad ; 
and even the valleys near the reputed healthy Sienna 
are not exempt from the scourge. In short, the poison¬ 
ous atmosphere is so general in Italy, that none but 
such sites as Vallombrosa can be said to be wholly free 
from its malignity. The cause of it baffles apparently 
all research. That it has existed time immemorial in 
the environs of Rome, we may collect not only from 
Livy, but from Horace, who satirizes a glutton indulg¬ 
ing in delicacies at Nasidienus’s supper, in the intervals 
of his hot and cold fits. In the correspondence too of 
Marcus Aurelius with his tutor Fronto, lately given to 
the world by Angelo Majo, the malaria fever is occa¬ 
sionally mentioned. In a clever article of one of the 
late Edinburgh Reviews, the cause of malaria is traced 
to a certain herb common in the marshes; but the con¬ 
clusions that have been made are as yet only hypotheti¬ 
cal. The poisonous effluvia seems to lie in certain 
strata of air, which are more or less elevated according 
to local circumstances. One would naturally think that 
the lowest spots are the most noxious; but this is by 
no means always the case. No less than two thousand 
four hundred persons were laid up by the fever, when 
I was at Rome in 1832. 


183 


ROM AN/E. 


Towards the end of June, 1832, armed with a 
handkerchief well drenched with vinaigre aux quatre 
voleurs , I hired a boat near the Ponte Sisto, and des¬ 
cended the river to visit the Cloaca Maxima, the 
proudest work of Tarquinius Priscus, and the most 
perfect of the oldest class of the Roman antiquities. 
The arch where the Cloaca disembogues into the Tiber, 
is, however, generally attributed to Tarquinius Super¬ 
bus. Pliny has by no means exaggerated its dimen¬ 
sions, when he says that a waggon loaded with hay 
might easily pass under it. The blocks of stone that 
serve for the support of the vaults, are five feet each in 
length, and three in thickness; and placed one on each 
other, without any cement. The water at the entrance 
is pretty deep, with a bottom horribly black with the 
accumulated filth of twenty-three centuries. The even- 
ing was exceedingly brilliant, and there was an indes¬ 
cribable glossy and unhealthy transparency in the air. 
A precipitous bank, facing the palace formerly occupied 
by Donna Olympia, was covered with the red skeletons 
of newly-slain horses. Grace au vinaigre des quatre 
voleurs , I penetrated for about twenty yards this inter¬ 
esting Cloaca, impatient enough, all the while, to 


184 


HORjE 


emancipate myself from the favourite haunts of Juve¬ 
nal’s eel. 


Among my ramblings in Rome, I was not altogether 
so taken up with her pagan antiquities, her statues, and 
paintings, as to omit some minor recollections which 
she still preserves of the middle ages. An interesting 
object is furnished by an inn, now of small note, but 
which, in the time of the crusades, possessed at Rome 
the same consideration that the great hotels of the 
Piazza di Spagna claim in our days. This inn is 
called i Or si. You have it to your left, as you descend 
that street which leads directly from the Porta del 
Popolo to the Ponte Santf Angelo , from which it may be 
distant a quarter of a mile. It is the oldest inn in 
Europ#, and I have passed it at least twenty times. 
The exterior presents nothing remarkable; but the 
stable, though low, is capacious; and if I might judge 
from the accumulated and hard-cemented dirt on the 
walls, blackened with the lamp-smoke of centuries, has 
not altered the form it originally had. I could not help 
entering it with a sort of religious emotion; for here, 
perhaps, the squires and retinue of Saint Louis found 
their quarters in their way to the Holy Land ; here, 



-ROMANCE. 


185 


too, the stud of our Richard Cceur-de-Lion may have 
champed their hay and oats; here, haply, his knights- 
companions, and several Templars, warmed their blood 
with old Sabine, before measuring their swords with 
Sultan Saladin. Here hundreds of pilgrims were 
housed, who resorted to Rome to obtain that benedic¬ 
tion which they deemed necessary to their eternal 
welfare. Here, perchance, the messengers of our 
Becket, or our Wolsey, and of that host of Catholic 
dignitaries, sent by Rome to Catholic England, reposed 
after their long fatigues. It is still an inn of some con¬ 
sequence, in a subordinate way; and frequented by 
many condottieri , who bait in its antiquated stable from 
twenty to thirty horses. 


M y mornings at Rome were generally devoted to the 
study and analysis of the Catholic doctrines, aided by 
the ecclesiastical labours of the Abbe de la Mennais. 
After dinner, the calash was put in requisition ; and I 
doubt not that the Roman horses were not sorry at my 
departure, pleading guilty, as I do, to having expressed 
some streams of sweat from their hides. Winckelmann, 
Carlo Fea, Vasi, and Nibby, furnished my intellectual 
supper. 



186 


HOlliE 


Dr. Kitchener, whose name tallied with the object of 
his lucubrations, has thrown a certain refinement over 
the kitchen, and its appurtenances; though men of 
study and thought, would generally let kitchens take 
care of themselves, could they once discover the secret 
of making those intractable elements of our nature, 
palate and stomach , pull in harmony together. The 
miseries resulting from their quarrels, resound from pole 
to pole. Partly to mitigate their discordant propensities, 
and partly for amusement, I devoted, some subsecive 
minutes to the study of the Roman kitchen. My dining¬ 
room in the summer, was a trellis-work formed by the 
branches of a mulberry tree, behind an inn, titled La 
Lepre , in the Via Condotti , if I rightly remember. The 
splendid water of the Trinita fountain, gurgling through 
two spouts, kept perpetually full two stone cisterns. 
When the thermometer ranged between 75° and 85°, I 
held it no bad thing to bury for half an hour, a bottle of 
Orvieto wine in one of the cisterns; which sparkles like 
Champagne, but will not keep good beyond a few months. 
I held that chicken or mutton broth, sprinkled with a tea¬ 
spoonful of scraped Parmesan, was a good foundation 
for a three o’clock dinner; and kept those wayward 
porters of the vestibule of life, Palate and Stomach , on 
good terms, at least for a while. I was, however, forced 
to beg a truce of the latter, for the admission of a small 


ROMANCE. 


187 


cold lobster, from Ostia, with lettuce, slightly sprinkled 
with vinegar. Both were in good humour enough, with 
a red mullet or two, but not so large as what I had 
eaten some years before at Taormina, in Sicily; also 
with fresh anchovies, with green Lucca oil for sauce, 
from Gorgona, round which isle they attain a large size. 
Stomach , who always had a high idea of the skill and 
efficacy of Dr. Lent, proscribed peremptorily the acid 
Orvieto; and I was forced to compound for his admis¬ 
sion, tax-free, of a small pint of honest and soft Gensano, 
which may be got very good for three-pence the bottle. 

I could never sign a treaty with him, in favour of the 
wild-boar cutlets, with grape sauce; nor of the Italian 
cream, seasoned with lemon, and which you may cut 
like cheese; nor of the diabred cake, insulated by a rich 
yellow custard, set off with split almonds. Cold fowl 
and lettuce entered the custom-house tax-free, as did a 
small morsel of Parmesan, the sovereign of cheeses; 
which I have eaten better at Lodi, than any where else; 
stringing, when broken, like combs of virgin honey. * 
And this was the conclusion of the fare at La Lepre. 
Of the wines, Montepulciano, though good, has been too 
highly praised by Redi; it yields the palm to Monte- 
fiascone, in the apprehension of most foreign palates. 
The vegetables are, for the most part, excellent at Rome, 
especially the fennel, finocchio. The lettuces, with less 


188 


II OB.M 


care in the culture, are more succulent than our own; 
the potatoes are small, waxy, and very inferior to the 
English. No where is broccoli eaten in greater perfec¬ 
tion ; boiled, and served up cold, with a sprinkling of 
vinegar, it makes a good sallad. But the most enviable 
vegetable at Rome, and the most wholesome, is the 
artichoke : it is known to give strength. I have walked 
through whole fields of them, cultivated with no more 
care than our turnips; they rise about three feet high, 
and have a glaucous, bristly aspect, very striking to a 
northern eye. The cauliflowers are much finer to the 
look than our own ; but, I think, of inferior flavour. Of 
the fruits, the melons are excellent, especially the great 
water , not less wholesome than agreeable; they are sold 
in slices throughout the city, with their fine pink pulp, 
studded with bean-like seeds, and sparkling like dia¬ 
monds ; but I have eaten better in the south of Russia. 
Of the grapes, 1 will only notice the pizzoutello , remark¬ 
able for their irregular shape. The peaches, apricots, 
and nectarines, are inferior to our own, owing to the 
little attention paid to their culture; they are often wasp- 
eaten before they are ripe. The vegetables that delight 
in a mild and rather humid climate, such as the turnip, 

f 

carrot, parsnip, and asparagus, are not comparable in 
flavour or size to the British : the same may be said of 
the raspberries, strawberries, and currants; the latter are 


ROMANCE. 


189 


scarcely ever seen on the Roman tables. There is a 
pear of good flavour; but the apples, though fine to the 
eye, are spiritless, and often mealy. Cucumbers are but 
little esteemed; and I have seen them given to cattle. 
The knowledge of the dairy, and its appurtenances, has 
made progress of late years at Rome; there is a very 
large dairy concern, near the bridge of Narses, on the 
Anio. The pastures are naturally good, especially about 
the Anio, and in the Pontine marshes; but it is hard to 
get what would be called in England, good palatable 
butter.—Good or bad, about the middle of the last cen¬ 
tury, could not be procured at any price. The viands 
are pretty good, especially the pork from Spoleto, fed 
on chesnuts and acorns. But the ignorance of the art 
of roasting is remarkable at Rome. I remember eating, 
at Sir William Drummond’s, some years ago, neverthe¬ 
less, a leg of mutton, from the mountains above Tivoli, 
as well-flavoured as the best of our own. The pigeons 
are double the size of the English, and better flavoured. 
The hare and partridge are comparatively insipid ; but 
the wild-fowl are innumerable, and excellent. I have 
seen them by thousands, darkening the air, in the Pon¬ 
tine marshes; where they arrive towards November, and 
disappear, in their migrations northward, about the ver¬ 
nal equinox. Such is the result of my demi-Apician 
and Vitellian researches, during my three visits to the 


190 


hor^: 


venerable nurse of the seven hills. At Paris, I occa¬ 
sionally devoted a few hours to culinary accomplish¬ 
ments ; and remember to have procured a civil bow, the 
year that Napoleon returned from Elba, from Monsieur 
Beauvilliers, who united to a high seasoned knowledge 
of cookery, the manners of a gentleman, by exclaiming, 
“ II n'y a (fun Paris , et un Beauvilliers 


In the spring of 1832, I visited the monastery of 
Assisi. As it lies out of the high road from Perugia to 
Rome, it is not often resorted to by travellers. You 
approach it by a continued ascent of about a mile and a 
half. I entered, with some veneration, the portal of this 
sacred edifice, built by the founder of the Franciscan 
order. Most singular is its architecture, having three 
churches, built one above the other. It has also a ter¬ 
race of great solidity, which commands an enchanting 
view of the Appennines, towards Perugia. In one of 
these churches, they shewed me the portraits of eight 
pontiffs, of whom this monastery was the nurse. They 
preserve here too, in a splendid shrine, the body of St. 
Francis, of Assisi, before which so many thousand pil¬ 
grims, for at least six centuries, have fallen on their 
knees. Within the last century, a full twenty thousand, 



ROMANCE. 


191 


on certain years, have flocked, to venerate the reliques 
of St. Francis; but this number has been vastly dimin¬ 
ished, since the first explosion of the French Revolution. 
I found in the kitchen of the monastery, which was 
spacious, and tolerably stocked with culinary utensils, a 
compatriot, who had served under Abercrombie in Egypt. 
He appeared not only reconciled to, but cheerful under 
the cowl. Most interesting is the large chapel beyond 
the three churches, now abandoned. The walls are 
completely covered with frescoes, by Giotto and Cimabue, 
the restorers of painting in Italy. For some years, un¬ 
fortunately, they have been irretrievably ruined by damp; 
but two or three heads, by Cimabue, preserve yet an 
astonishing freshness, considering they have been painted 
at least six centuries. The neglect of this chapel, one 
of the most interesting in Italy, is certainly a disgrace to 
the tenants of the monastery; for a brazier, lighted about 
a hundred days every year, would have warded off* the 
damp from those precious efforts of infant art. Con¬ 
tiguous to the monastery, and standing nobly in front of 
a well-paved market-place, rises the Corinthian portico 
of the old Roman temple of Minerva; of which Palladio, 
who visited Assisi, has given the plan and measurement. 
The portico is in higher preservation than that of any 
other Roman ruin, and from its chaste style, I have 
little doubt of its dating about the age of Augustus. Its 


192 


HOR^ 


cella forms the church of—T forget what saint. Palladio 
remarks, that it is the only temple of antiquity wherein 
the columns are mounted on pedestals. The effect is by 
no means unpleasing; and a fine evening sun set off the 
yellow-tinted stone of the columns in so attractive a 
manner, that I stood gazing at the venerable ruin for 
half an hour. Yet Assisi, though generally well-built, 
had an air of desolation about it, enhanced by the earth¬ 
quake, which convulsed its environs some months before. 
A great church below had been much damaged; and T 
counted at least a dozen farms in the neighbourhood, 
more or less fissured by the shocks. I pursued the upper 
road to Spoleto, which of course presented far more im¬ 
posing views than the lower; and Francis of Assisi soon 
made way for pagan considerations, suggested by the 
Porta Hannibalis , and the splendid aqueduct of Theo- 
doric, which exhibits one of the earliest instances of the 
pointed arch in Italy. 

Subsequently, I visited Cortona, built on a more pre¬ 
cipitous rock than Assisi. The vast Cyclopian walls 
proclaim its remote antiquity; and one of the stones of 
the old walls I found to be no less than eleven feet in 
length, by about three in height; the breadth of course 
I could not ascertain. You mount by a winding ascent, 
and in about a mile, gain the entrance of the modern 
town, which is composed of pretty irregular streets, but 


ROMANCE. 193 

of lofty and well-built houses, several of which, as I 
heard, are stored with paintings by Pietro di Cortona, 
an artist, who I but little relish, being a decided man¬ 
nerist. On gaining a sort of terraced walk towards the 
south, you command a glorious sweep of the Thrasymene 
lake, bounded by the circumjacent Appennines; and 
passing a grove of ilex and cypresses, in a sort of hollow, 
you gain, by a fatiguing ascent, the highest point of the 
old acropolis; the view commanded by which, he that 
has once seen can never forget. I prefer it on the whole, 
to the landscape from Vallombrosa. I regained the old 
inn late in the evening, and, aided by Micali, sat rumi¬ 
nating over my coffee, on the various fortune of Cortona, 
from the days of its founder, Tarchon, who flourished 
three millennia ago, to the present hour. The next 
morning I bade farewell to this most ancient of Etrurian 
cities, the Tarchontis domus , as it is called by Silius 
Italicus. 


I remember well the justly-respected Chiaramonte. 
He occasionally walked about the city, without any 
ceremony. I recollect having met him, accompanied 
only by an ecclesiastic, a fine summer’s evening, on my 


o 



194 


TJOR.E 


return from the monument of Csecilia Metella, wearing 
his plain pontifical robes, and broad-brimmed crimson 
silk hat. At other times, he exhibited the state adopted 
by most of his predecessors; and more than once have 
I heard the dragoon who preceded his carriage utter, in 
a peremptory tone, the word scendere; which obliged 
any passenger in a carriage to get out, and stand with 
his hat off as he passed; which I cheerfully did. A 
dozen well-mounted dragoons, on high-blooded horses, 
generally followed the pontifical carriage. 

Eo tempore, ibam forte ad Janiculum sicut mens erat 

i 

mos , nescio quid meditans nugarum; and happened to 
notice an Ionic capital, imbedded in a ruined portion of 
those old walls, which flank the hill, as you go towards 
the Acqua Paola. Hard by, there lay a fragment, pro¬ 
bably of an antique altar, an angle of which exhibited a 
ram’s head. I was immediately struck with the coinci¬ 
dental appearance of this with the Ionic volute; and on 
my return to the Piazza di Spagna , I wrote a letter to 
the Abate Uggeri, well known for his attainments in 
architecture, stating my suspicion in the rams’ horns 
having, at some period or another, furnished the first 
idea of the Ionic volute; and supported my belief of 
this, by the reflection, that among the Egyptians the 
heads of animals sometimes served as capitals of 
columns; as Denon has shown in a shaft, with a bull’s 


ROMANCE. 195 

head for the capital ;* also, that in the early ages of 
Greece, the heads of sacrificial animals were probably 

suspended on the architraves. I added in my letter, 

\ 

that it is plausible to infer that the ram’s head often took 
place there, as well as the bull’s and stag’s; the skulls 
of which borrowed, no doubt, from this custom, were 
sometimes carved on the Roman Doric friezes, and 
sometimes on the Corinthian. Now, is it not plausible 
to surmise, that a ram’s head accidentally suspended 
over a Doric abacus, may have struck the imagination 
of some Grecian, who had travelled perhaps in Egypt 
for instruction, about the time of Herodotus, and that 
he cradled in his brain this foetus of the Ionic order, 
destined afterwards to be bred, and receive the finish of 
its education under the architects of Greece ? Denon 
gives us an Egyptian capital, in which it is easy to trace 
considerable resemblance to the Ionic volute ;f and he 
conjectures that this capital, evidently of remote anti¬ 
quity, may have been the archetype of the order. 
Perhaps—But what furnished the origin of this capital, 
embellished with volutes? The ram’s horns, are my 
answer. 

The origin of the Corinthian order seems to be pretty 

* 

* Denon. Voyage en Egypte, planche lx. fig. 10. 
f Denon, planche lx. fig. 3. 


HORJE 


1 96 

satisfactorily traced to the well-known anecdote of the 
acanthus and flower-basket. The origin of the Doric 
order maybe referred plausibly to Egypt; for Denon 
found in one of the galleries of the Theban temples, a 
complete Doric shaft, gradually diminishing upwards; 
he says, “ elle resemble tellement par sa dimension , et sa 
cannelure , d la colonne Dorique , qu'elle peut en etre 
Vorigine But the origin of the Ionic has hitherto per¬ 
plexed those who have devoted their time to these in¬ 
quiries. Some have whimsically imagined the volute 
to be an imitation of the curls that play gracefully round 
the temples of a young girl; others, with more proba¬ 
bility, to the accidental curving of the bark of trees, that 
served as columns to the earlier temples. The Abate 
Uggeri, whom I visited at Rome, in his work illustrative 
of the three orders, has introduced a letter from one of 
his friends, ascribing the discovery of the volute to the 
usage of spreading veils in front of the Doric temples; 
and afterwards to the folding them in the shape of bales 
of cloth round the Doric capitals, to be always ready for 
future use at sacrifices. But I cannot acquiesce to 
either of the above opinions; though I do not think the 
accidental association of the ram’s horns and Ionic 
volute, which struck me on the Janiculum, is entitled to 
the merit of a complete Eureeka. 


ROMANCE. 


197 


An entertaining compilation might be made of all the 
pasquinades that have been recorded in modern Rome. 
These extemporary satires are no doubt of remote anti¬ 
quity; and if they did not originate at Athens, found 
probably there the soil most congenial to their growth 
and propagation. We are indebted to Suetonius for 
several, levelled against the great personages of Rome. 
One of the most striking is that directed against 
Augustus, when he appeared at a masquerade, himself 
as Apollo, and his courtiers as the eleven other major 
deities. But it is too sublime for this species of satire. 

Cum primum istorum conduxit mensa choragum, 
Sexque Deos vidit Mallia, sexque Deas ; 

Impia dum Phcebi Caesar mendacia ludit, 

Dum nova Divorum coenat adulteria; 

Omnia se a terris tunc Numina declinarunt, 

Fugit et auratos Jupiter ipse thronos. 

Which I thus render:— 

Soon as the guests their coryphaeus chose, 

Sudden six Gods, six Goddesses arose— 

These Mallia saw—She witness’d the disgrace 
Of Caesar aping Phoebus’ form and face; 


198 


HORiF. 


And introducing at his supper-tables, 

The Gods’ adulteries in poets’Yables; 

Which when the Gods beheld, their heads they turn’d 
Aside, and Jove himself that banquet spurn’d, 

Which, rivalling his own, with golden splendour 
burn’d. 


LECTORI BENEVOLO. 

M. 13. 

Hanc inscriptionem inveni, cum essem Romse, sub 
initio anni M dccc xxxn, affixam aedibus quibusdam 
rusticis, in vinea Altieriana. Verisimile est illam fuisse 
scriptam in aliquo sseculi decimi sexti anno, ad risum 
promovendum inter amicos patroni villce. Utcunque 
sit, O Lector, strepitus quidam argutus et singularis 
aures tuas percellet, si illam rapide perlegeris.— Vale ! 


Hoc in rare 

Cceli rore 

\ 

Fusis aequis 
Physis aquis 




ROMANCE. 


199 


Solum fractum 
Reddit fructum 
Dum cum sale 
Nitri et sole 
Surgunt fumi 
Spavsi fimi 
Istud nemus 
Parvus nummus 
Tenet formal 
Semper firma 
Dum sunt ortae 
Sine arte 
Vites pyra 
Et poma pura 
Habens lacum 
Prope lucum 
Ubi lupus 
Non sed lepus 
Saepe ludit 
Dum non laedit 
Mites oves 
Atque aves 
Canis custos 
Inter castos 
Agnos feras 
Mittit foras 


200 


HOJtJE 


Et est aegri 
Hujus agri 
Aer solus 
Vera salus 
Replens herbis 
Vias urbis 
Sulci sati 
Dant pro siti 
Scvphos vini 
Intro veni 
Vir non vanus 
Extra Venus 
Vobis fures 
Claudo fores 
Labe lotus 
Bibas laetus 
Meri mare 
Bacchi more 
Inter uvas 
Si vis ovas 
Et quod cupis 
Gratis capis 
Tibi paro 
Corde puro 
Quicquid putas 
A me petas 


ROMANS. 


201 


Dant hie apes 
Claras opes 
Dulcis mellis 
Semper mollis 
Hie in sylvae 
Umbra salve 
Tu qui luges 
Nunc si leges 
Notas istas 
Stans hie aestas 
Vere mista 
Fronte maesta 
Nunquam fleres 
Inter flores 
Si maneres 
Nee manares 
Inter fletus 
Dum hie flatus 
Aurae spirant 
Unde sperant 
Maestae mentes 
Inter montes 
Inter colies 
Inter calles 
"Et in valle 
Hujus villa? 


HOIl^E 


Ubi vallus 
Claudit vellus 
Bonum omen 
Semper Amen 
Etiam petrae 
Dum a putre 
Surgunt patre 
Ita notas 
Hie vix natas 
In hac porta 
Luto part& 
Tempus ridet 
Brevi rodet! 


ROMANCE. 


203 


THE VILLA LANTI 

Commands, I think, the most advantageous view of 
Rome and its environs. Three of the apartments ex¬ 
hibit frescoes by Giulio Romano, but considerably the 
worse for the lapse of three centuries. It is supposed 
to occupy the site of the villa of Julius Martialis, cele¬ 
brated in the well-known poem of the epigrammatist; 
the lines 


HINC SEPTEM DOMINOS VIDERE MONTES, 

ET TOTAM LICET jESTIMARE ROMAM, 

have been inscribed, if I remember right, in the grand 
saloon. 

The Villa Conti, at Frascati, is one of the most 
agreeable for its copious waters; the palace, placed at 
the western angle, is, however, ill-situated, and in bad 
taste. I amused myself with altering, in imagination, 
the whole plan. Commanding, as the villa does, such 
fine waters, (the Aqua Crabra , if I mistake not, men¬ 
tioned by Cicero,) with a very few thousand scudi, it 


504 


hoh^; 


might become one of the most enviable retreats in the 
Roman environs. 

The Villa Borgliese was my usual walk before break¬ 
fast, during my three sojournings at Rome. Jacob 
Moor has been too much praised for what he has done 
therein ; indeed, in many particulars I so differed from 
from him, that 1 tossed, in imagination, the whole plan 
into a different form. 

The Villa Corsini, on the Janiculum, has some de¬ 
lightful ilex walks, set off with artificial cascades. Here, 
at mid-day, have I loved to quote Martial: 

ASstus serenos frangam aquarum murmure, 

Obscurus umbris arborum. 

I found the Villa Madama in a deplorable state of 
dilapidation. It was formerly inhabited by Margaret of 
Austria, daughter of Charles V. Raphael was its archi¬ 
tect ; and Giulio Romano painted its portico and one 
of the saloons. I found the great hall occupied by a 
farming family, and agricultural implements. 

Twice have I visited the Villa Olgiati, close to that 
of Borgliese. It w r as frequented by Raphael, and his 
disciples. He has left here three frescoes, which I 
suspect he must have painted w r hen in an idle mood. 

The Villa Aldobrandini, at Frascati, has too many 


ROMANCE. 


205 


concetti in cascades, and childish play of waters, to 
please the lovers of the true spirit of ornamental gar¬ 
dening. The house itself is a vast barrack-like pile, of 
no pretensions to pleasing architecture. Still the park, 
with its cold and resplendent waters poured in violence 
from Algidum, has sufficient capabilities for the forma¬ 
tion of a country retreat, which, if an independent 
person possessed, and did not know how to enjoy for a 
few months in the year, he would scarcely deserve the 
name of civilized being. The stream, shooting down 
steep declivities, forms in succession two or three basins 
of crystalline water: 

“ Quae tam Candida, tam serena lucet, 

Ut nullas ibi suspiceris undas.” 

Twice or thrice have I strolled in the gardens of the 
Villa Massimi, with a beautiful portal of caryatides, 
contiguous to the hospital of San Giovanni Laterano. 
It is, I think, of more pleasing architecture than any, 
and more habitable, not being uselessly vast. One of 
the saloons has been recently adorned with frescoes 
above mediocrity, painted by a German artist, and re¬ 
presenting subjects from the Inferno of Dante. I re¬ 
member near the fountain having started a lizard of 
great size, and very venomous. In walking round the 


206 


HORjE 


the gardens, beautiful, though neglected, I found it 
necessary to fortify the moral, by repeating the tenth 
commandment. 

The generosity of the possessors of these villas in 
laying them open to strangers, deserves their gratitude. 
Neither did 1 hear at Rome of more than one exception 
to this liberality. 


TO THE MEMORY OF 


NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI, 

THESE RESULTS 

OF MEDITATIONS 

PARTLY PURSUED IN THE GARDENS OF 
THE VILLA PAMFILI-DOR1A, 

ARE INSCRIBED BY THEIR 
AUTHOR, 


HIS ADMIRER. 


AN1MADVERT0 IN QUAM PERICULOSUM ITER 

PROCESSER1M. 


Yal. Max. lib. iii. c. 6. 



209 


ROMANCE. 


But the Villa Pamfili-doria, in spite of its 
unhealthiness in the autumnal months, was, of all the 
villas in the immediate neighbourhood of Rome, to me 
the most attractive; presenting, as it does, the most 
perfect specimen of the old Italian style of gardening 
existing; and a walk there brings back the visitor to 
the period of the sixteenth century. Copious are the 
waters with which it is supplied; while one side of its 
boundary is marked by that splendid line of aqueduct, 
which furnishes water to the Acqua Paola. Its 
excavated garden, its lofty clipped hedges, have an air 
of grandeur, which make the admirers of the Italian 
gardening hope that they will not be altered. For let 
the disciples of Kent and Browne say what they will, 
Italian gardening is the most striking, if well under¬ 
stood ; but the misfortune is, it hardly ever was, or is; 
distorted as it generally is by capricious and puerile 
fancies. Fine, here, is the effect of the fountains 
spouting water at the end of two of the grander avenues. 
Magnificent are the groups of the umbrella-pines; and 
among them have I frequently strolled, while the sun 
distilled from their barks an exquisite perfume. Here I 


F 


•210 


HORiE 


often indulged in ruminations suggested by what I saw' 
on every side around me; but chiefly by wfliat I had 
lately read. I had applied philosophy to nearly every 
chapter of the biography of Sisto Quinto, by Gregorio 
Leti, an entertaining and instructive work ; and which 
all the talented Italians, who may have the tiara in view, 
should not fail to study. He was incontestably the 
greatest of the Roman pontiffs; and though he sullied 
his high office with two or three acts of cruelty, yet he 
succeeded in making himself respected out of Catho¬ 
licism ; and we have all heard of the Jlirtations that 
passed between him and our Elizabeth. “ ZJn gran 
crevello di Principessa /” exclaimed Sisto. “ I will 
give my hand to none but Pope Sixtus,” retorted our 
Queen, with quaint jocularity. Sisto, even from the 
time that he made himself conspicuous, was nicknamed 
PAsino della Marca; yet this same Asino could kick 
and bite pretty severely, when provoked; proved by 
the treatment of the author of the pasquinade, wherein 
Pasquin w r as made to ask Marforio why he wore so 
dirty a shirt ? “ Because my washerwoman is made a 
princess,” replied the latter, in allusion to the Pope’s 
sister, who, when her brother tended swine, had her 
hands frequently in the suds. The Pope offered two 
thousand pistoles for the discovery of the author of this 
satire, with the promise that his life should be spared, 


ROMANCE. 


211 ' 


even il the pasquinade originated with the informer. 
“ There are your two thousand pistoles,” exclaimed the 
Pontiff to the author of the satire, who had suffered 
himself to be allured by the bait; “ but I have reserved 
to myself the privilege of boring your tongue, and ampu¬ 
tating both your hands, to prevent the recurrence of a 
similar offencewhich sentence was immediately 
carried into execution. This was vastly too cruel. Had 
I been in Sisto’s place, I would have said to the culprit: 
“ Since one of my titles is that of Asino della Marca , I 
will confer upon you my own mark of distinction. You 
shall, then, have the figure of an ass, tattooed in gun¬ 
powder on your forehead. There is your purse of 
pistoles, and with them your liberty, as soon as you 
shall have received your new mark of distinction.” But 
in spite of this, and one or two other severities, the re¬ 
collections of his pontificate can never be effaced. 

Nevertheless, as I walked among these fine groups of 
pines, I could not help pourtraying to my imagination a 
pontiff dal mio cervello , who might eclipse, with moder¬ 
ate attention, Sisto himself in sterling merit. I titled 
him Urbano Nono, not exactly of the Barberini blood, 
but of blood entirely his own. I imagined him installed 
with due solemnity in the pontifical chair ; but before I 
could proceed with setting in motion the new pontiff, it 
was necessary to imagine in the corridors of the Vatican 


919 

"W M m* 


KORA*: 


two or three such chests as the one bequeathed by 
Sisto, and which contained five millions of scudi. I 
imagined him warm in his seat, and turning in his 
brain the results of his reflections on the different posi¬ 
tions of the spiritual and political states of Rome, from 
the pontificate of Ganganelli to, we will say, the middle 
of the present century. One of his first acts would be> 
the issue of circular letters to several of the most learned 
dignitaries of Italy, requiring their attendance at a 
council to be held in the sacristy of San Giovanni 
Laterano; and which could not complete its labours 
before the expiration of many months: to these he 
w r ould add a certain number of other foreign and 
learned dignitaries, who should be the representatives 
of other Catholic countries ; each natives of the respec¬ 
tive countries. The matters submitted to their con¬ 
sideration would be of very high and delicate importance. 
The principal results of the labours of this council 
would be: 

]. The total destruction of the sanctity of every 
individual canonized by the Vatican, from the earliest 
epochs to the present day; adding the sanctity sub¬ 
tracted from them to the Holy Trinity, the Holy Ghost, 
our Saviour, Saint John the Baptist, the Virgin, the 
twelve Apostles, and the Evangelists; and decreeing, 
that no church or chapel should henceforth be dedicated 
to any person, save one or other of the above. 


ROMANCE. 


213 


2. The total annihilation of papal indulgences. 

3. The gradual removal of all the bodies, relics, and 
shrines from churches, of persons heretofore canonized 
by the Vatican, and reputed by the superstitious of 
former times as saints. 

4. The overt renunciation of all future canonization 
of saints by the Vatican. 

But since this act might, in an indirect manner, 
compromise the pristine dignity of the Vatican, it 
would be necessary to preserve, for some of those 
individuals so desecrated, the title of Venerabili; 
rescinding for the future any holidays or church cere¬ 
monies in their honour. This act would be followed 
by another, desecrating all the churches in Rome, 
with the above stated important exceptions, including 
in the desecration the Pantheon. The Araceli should, 
however, remain, and preserve its name. On refer¬ 
ring to Vasi, I find that about seventy-five churches, 
dedicated to obscure saints of the middle ages, would 
thus, by Urbano Nono, after being with due ceremonies 
desecrated, either reconsecrated to one or other of the 
above sacred persons mentioned in Art. 1. or wholly 
demolished; care being taken, in case of demolition, to 
remove the more valuable paintings and marbles. There 
would then remain in Rome a full seventy churches, 
one of which is the vastest in the world; and these 


•214 


HORjE 


would be superabundant for treble its actual population. 
This act would be followed by the gradual desecration 
of the churches throughout Italy, dedicated to the 
obscure local saints, and by reconsecrating most of them 
either to our Saviour, to John the Baptist, to the Virgin, 
to the Holy Trinity, to the Holy Ghost, to one or other 
of the twelve Apostles, or of the four Evangelists, and 
to one or other of them alone. 

The consequence, then, of this act of Urbano Nono, 
would be the total destruction of the sanctities of such 
individuals as Saints Prassedi, Rosa, Carlo Borromeo, 
&c. &c. in Italy; of Saints Hermenegildo, Teresa, 
&c. &c. in Spain; of Saints Remy, Louis, &c. &c. in 
France; of Saints George, Patrick, Thomas of Canter¬ 
bury, &c. &c. in the British isles. 

Some of these, nevertheless, would be inscribed, after 
diligent investigation, in a book of vellum finely illumi¬ 
nated, and to be deposited in the sacristy of San 
Giovanni Laterano , and entitled il Libro dei Venerabili. 
With this the new Council of Lateran would decree 
that their spiritual glory should be satisfied; abolishing 
all holidays, or rather idle days, hitherto devoted to 
their honour. The festivals, then, throughout the year, 
would be Sundays, the usual days at Christmas, Easter, 
and Whitsuntide, the days of the Virgin, and of each of 
the Evangelists and of the twelve Apostles. But the 


ROMANCE. 


215 


Circumcision-holiday should be abolished; it referring 
to an usage of the Jews sufficiently gross, and the pre¬ 
servation of which can further no religious view what¬ 
ever. The sanctified abstemiousness of Lent would 
remain inviolate. This effected, Urbano, through the 
Council of Lateran, would naturally turn his thoughts 
to the melioration of the religious ceremonies; and he 
would question the wisdom of the dark ages in preserv¬ 
ing the ritual in Latin. He would, therefore, order the 
universal adoption of the church service in the language 
of each country: to Spain he would say, it should be in 
Spanish ; to Portugal, in Portuguese ,• to Germany, in 
German; to France, in French; and to the British 
isles, in English. The reorganization of the ritual 
would require much attention; and all those prayers 
dedicated to the saints of the middle ages, should be 
expunged, and considered for the future in the light of 
literary curiosities. The above projects he has in view, 
postponing the carrying them into effect to a future 
year; he also proposes to inculcate, by a Motu Proprio , 
the abandoning of the superstitious kissing and preserva¬ 
tion of relics, observing therein, that this usage, though 
probably originating from pious motives, can never 
further true religion; exhorting, at the same time, an 
increased veneration for the churches of Santa Maria 
Maggiore , of San Pietro in Vaticano , and more espe- 


*216 


HORiE 


cially for San Giovanni Laterano, the CUNCTARUM 
mater ET CAPUT ecclesiarum, which I never 
passed, without feeling a thrill of religious veneration. 
He would then establish simpler vestures for the priests, 
instead of those silken red and white gewgaws, which 
originated in the middle ages; he would abolish those 
ostrich-plume fans used at the benedictions, and which 
belong more to puppet-shows than to any sacred cere¬ 
mony. He would prohibit soldiers from entering any 
church with their arms; he would place a splendid 
organ in the pontifical chapel to the left of the aisle of 
St. Peter’s, and organize a finer singing choir ; he would 
order a hundred long benches with backs to be placed 
in the nave of that church, the music being confined to 
the chapel, to prevent the echo. He would clothe the 
functionaries in plain black on fasts, and during Lent; 
while on festivals, they should be habited in plain 
white. He would select the altar-table of one of the 
minor churches, to serve, nearly at least, as a model for 
the decoration of the others; the table being left open 
on festivals, with its marble ornaments; and on fasts, 
and during Lent, to be covered with black cloth or 
velvet. That gewgaw tinsel, so common in the churches, 
he would poco a poco remove; the altars too of the 
desecrated saints, he would also cause to be destroyed, 
after the observation of an introductory ceremony. Four 


ROMANCE. 


217 


tapers, in stands of silver, should be the only lights 
allowed in churches; and those would be placed on the 
altars, two on each side of the crucifix, and each em¬ 
blematic of one of the four gospels. None but pictures 
above mediocrity should be seen in the churches. He 
would abolish the disgusting usage of burying in the 
churches; observing, in a proclamation, that though, 
perhaps, it originated from pious motives, nothing can 
be more insulting to the decency of religion than the 
heaping together of bodies, festering in their shrouds, in 
places of devotion. He would then consecrate two 
cemeteries, one near the Porta Pia , the other near the 
Ponte Molle . 

Urbano Nono would next turn his thoughts to the 
institution of the Cardinalate on better understood 
principles than hitherto. He would not go so far as 
the Abbe de la Mennais, in wishing to assign to the 
Cardinals the poverty and capuchin vestures of the 
primitive church; but he would require that they 
should be men of some tried merit, without exacting an 
overstrained morality. The Cardinalate then, I think, 
he would divide into two orders : i Cardinali a latere , 
who shall be twelve in number, and all Italians: 
i Cardinali esteriori , who should be Catholic foreigners, 
and men of some distinction and good blood in their 
respective countries. The twelve first, my Urbano 
would thus title: 


218 


HOJRzE 


IL CARDINALE DI SAN GIOVANNI LATERANO. 

I 

DI SAN PIETRO VATICANO. 

DI SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE. 

DI SAN PAOLO FUORI LE MURA. 

DELLA TRINITA DEL MONTE. 

DI SANT’ ANDREA DELLA VALLE. 

DELL* ARACELI. 

DI SAN BARTOLOMEO. 

DI SAN LUCA. 

DI SAN MARCO. 

DI SAN MATTEO. 

DI SAN MATTIAS. 

I Cardinali esteriori would be arranged as follows: 

IL CARDINALE DI FRANCIA. 

DI SPAGNA. 

DI PORTUGAL. 

DELLE ISOLE BRITANNICHE. 

DELL’ ALEMAGNA INFERIORE. 

DELL’ ALEMAGNA SUPERIORE. 

DELL’ AMERICA SETTENTRIONALE. 

DELL* AMERICA MERIDIONALE. 

DELL* ORIENTE. 

These should be generally natives of their respective 
countries; and they would be so many representatives 


ROMANCE. 219 

of Catholicism as their titles indicate. The whole col¬ 
lege of Cardinals would then be twenty-one in number, 
and limited to that number. II Cardinale delV Alemagna 
inferiore , would be the chief of Catholicism in all the 
German countries south of the Danube, from its mouths 
to its source, and so to the limits of France, including 
Swisserland; il Cardinale delV Alemagna superiore, 
would represent all the Catholics to the north of that 
line, including Poland, and the Catholics in northern¬ 
most Europe; il Cardinale delV America settentrionale 
would have his limits separated from those of his coad¬ 
jutor, by the isthmus of Darien; while il Cardinale delV 
Oriente would be the chief of the few Catholics existing 
in Greece, the Levant, and throughout Asia and Africa. 
Urbano, weighing attentively the actual resources of 
Pome, would not give more than 8000 scndi per annum 
to each of the Cardinali a latere; nor more than 10,000 
per annum to each of the Cardinali esteriori; so that 
the whole Cardinalate would cost the Roman exchequer 
186,000 scudi per annum. The latter Cardinals should 
be required to visit, and reside in Rome, for one year at 
least in their lives; their additional salary is explained 
by the necessary expenses entailed by the journey thither. 
The destruction of the seventy and more churches would 
throw a surplus into the pontifical exchequer, their offi¬ 
ciating priests being no longer to be supported. 


220 


HORjU 


The Pope this year, and the fourth of his pontificate, 
holds a full consistory of several indigenous and foreign 
dignitaries, at which are present nine of the interior, and 
four of the exterior Cardinals; he addresses them nearly 
as follows: “ Before I enter, O Cardinals, on the im¬ 
portant topics which 1 purpose this day to communicate 
to you, allow me to offer you my sincere congratulations 
on the already visible benefits resulting from the acts of 
the late Council of Lateran. The dismantling of the 
condemned churches is proceeding rapidly; and three 
of those which were decreed to be reconsecrated, already 
bear on their portals the names of the saints to whom 
they are reconsecrated. It gives me a high opinion of 
the improved state of the minds of the Roman people to 
observe, that the carrying into effect this important de¬ 
cree of the Council has been attended by few disagree¬ 
able consequences, notwithstanding that several con¬ 
tracted spirits have used their endeavours to throw as 
many obstacles in the way of my views of improvement 
as lay in their power. The general results, however, 
correspond with my wishes, as I trust they do with 
yours, O Cardinals. These measures, nevertheless, I 
beg you to consider as only preparatory to the important 
plans, which I have long meditated for the improvement 
of the organization of the Church establishment; and 
doubtless you, as well as myself, are aware that it cries 
loudly for reform. 


221 


roman m . 

U But I have to claim your earnest attention to this; 
which is, that you should consider merely as tentamina 
what I am about to propose, and that you should rumi¬ 
nate thereon at your leisure; hoping, as I do, that in 
four months from this day, in another consistory, you 
will disclose to me individually, your opinions on what 
I am about to develop. And first, with regard to the 
elective principle, as established for the appointment of 
the Pope. 

“ This principle, notwithstanding that it has obtained 
in the Vatican for so many centuries, I cannot help 
thinking very defective. How can it be otherwise, if 
the electors and the candidates form the same body ? 
Say, if you will, that by means of compromises, pairings 
off, with all the other tribe of subterfuges, the Pope be¬ 
comes appointed; still it must be obvious to every can¬ 
did mind, that if the body of the candidates, which is, 
and always should be, in the body of the Cardinals, be 
not distinctly marked from that of the electors, corrup¬ 
tion in the principle will be much more likely to ensue, 
than if they be distinctly divided. As a remedy for this, 
what I consider a defective institution, I propose to form 
an electoral body of the Dean and Canons of St. Peter’s, 
united to the Dean and Canons of San Giovanni Late- 
rano. In each of these churches, there will be twelve 
Canons and one Dean, forming, on the future demise of 


•222 


HORiE 


any pontiff, in the sacristy of San Giovanni Laterano , 
one electoral college, and comprising, of course, in all, 
twenty-six members. The Dean of San Giovanni Late - 
rano , for the time being, to be always the president; 
and in case of the votes being equal, he to have an ad¬ 
ditional vote. Since Catholicism is so widely extended, 
I propose also, that six of the canonries of St. Peter’s, 
and as many of those of San Giovanni Laterano , be laid 
open to individual ecclesiastics of all nations, who may 
profess Catholicism. Of deans and canons, there will 
be no more at Rome than the above. And these two 
bodies once formed, will draft from the most meritorious 
rectors, persons to fill the vacancies in the canonries 
that may occur. Such are my views with regard to the 
primary basis of our religious policy. With regard to 
the subordinate, after deep reflection, I am of opinion, 
that no more than bishops, rectors, and curates will be 
necessary; and that these, if they perform their functions 
with tolerable attention, will be amply sufficient. You 
know that I am called Bishop of Rome; if you create 
an archbishop, you place a person over me. The word 
bishop is authorised by the New Testament; but you 
will never find therein the words, archbishop , prebend , 
and all those supernumeraries invented by the Church, 
more for the furtherance of its temporal than spiritual 
interests. I beg you to consider deeply what I have 


ROMANCE. 


223 


here proposed; and to state, at your next convocation, 
your sentiments thereupon; that I may be able to take 
the optimism from the aggregate of your opinions, and 
submit them to the Council of Lateran, which you know 
is still sitting. Seeing the weight of responsibility which 
must, God knows, press heavily on the shoulders of 
whosoever fills the papal chair, I have also to propose 
to your consideration, the expediency of vesting in the 
Dean and Canons of St. Peter’s, and in those of San 
Giovanni Laterano , forming from time to time an aggre¬ 
gate body, the power of animadverting on any scandal¬ 
ous conduct that may occur in any individual attached 
to the Church. Let us suppose that Cardinal X. dis¬ 
graces himself by having frequently high play at his 
house, or any other debauchery; he should receive a 
monitory letter from the convocation; and in case of his 
conduct not being altered, he will receive, but not too 
quickly, a second; that being unattended to, he will 
receive a third, and with it an order from the reigning 
pontiff for his being unfrocked. The ceremony for which 
should be, his receiving from the Vatican his cardinal’s 
hat torn to pieces. Such is the view I take of this my 

9 

proposed institution; care being taken to interdict, by 
the articles of its institutes, a prying inquisition into 
private affairs. I beg you to devote all possible atten¬ 
tion to what I now submit to your consideration.” He 
bows to the assembly, and it disperses. 


224 


HORjE 


The result of the opinions of the convocation assem 
bled on the appointed day, tallies very nearly with the 
sentiments of the Pontiff ; it is submitted to, and con¬ 
firmed bv the Council of Lateran, which concludes its 
labours after thirty-three sessions, held, at irregular in¬ 
tervals, during four years. At the breaking up of the 
Council, Urbano is presented, by three of the senior 
members, with the following new decree relative to the 
churches. 

ABSTRACT OF THE DECREE OF THE COUNCIL OF LATERAN, 
RELATIVE TO THE CHURCHES. 

CHURCHES TO REMAIN INVIOLATE. 

SAN PIETRO IN VATICANO. 

SAN GIOVANNI LATERANO. 

SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE. 

SAN PAOLO FUORI LE MURA. 

SANT’ ANDREA DELLA VALLE. 

DEI SANTI APOSTOLI. 

d’araceli. 

SAN BARTOLOMEO DELL’ ISOLA. 

DELLO SPIRITO SANTO. 

DI SAN GIOVANNI DECOLLATO. 

DI SAN LUCA. 

DI SAN MARCO. 

DI SANTA MARIA DEI ANGELI. 


ROMANCE 


2*25 


DI SANTA MARIA AD MARTYRES. 

DI SANTA MARIA DELLA CONSOLAZIONE. 

DI SANTA MARIA DEI MIRACOLI. 

DI SANTA MARIA DE MONTESANTO. 

DI SANTA MARIA DELLA PACE. 

DI SANTA MARIA DEL POPOLO. 

DI SANTA MARIA IN TRASTEVERE. 

DI SANTA MARIA DELLA VITTORIA. 

DI SAN PAOLO ALLE TRE FONTANE. 

DI SAN PIETRO IN CARCERE. 

DI SAN PIETRO IN MONTORIO. 

DEL SANTO SALVATORE. 

DELLA TRINITA. 

% 

DELLA TRINITA DEL MONTE. 

\ 

DELLA TRINITA IN MONTE CITORIO. 

% 

DELLA TRINITA DEI PELLERINI. 

With, perhaps, after further consideration, about twelve 
or fifteen others. 

San Luigi di Francia , first to be desecrated, and then 
reconsecrated to San Matteo. San Lorenzo , to be re¬ 
consecrated to San Giovanni Battista. San Gregorio , 
with the splendid frescoes of Guido and Domenichino, 
to be reconsecrated to Sanf Andrea in Monte Celio. 
San Stefano Rotondo , to be reconsecrated to Lo Spirito 


Q 


HORjE 


*226 

Santo. With the reconsecration of about twenty others; 
observing the important regulation provided by Art. 1. 

All the remaining churches in Rome, after being 
desecrated, and after being stripped of their most valua¬ 
ble paintings and marbles, to be rased to the ground. 

Urbano, on receiving this decree of the new Council 
of Lateran, presented by three of the senior members, 
says: “ 1 could have wished that the Council had de¬ 
creed the demolition of some fifteen or twenty more of 
the churches; I acquiesce, nevertheless, to the judgment 
which the Council has displayed in this delicate and 
important transaction, convinced as I am, that it has 
acted on the safe side, influenced probably by the sen¬ 
timent, that it is imprudent to give too sudden a shock 
to long-established opinions, grafted on religious feelings, 
and by the probability of a future increase in the popu¬ 
lation requiring more churches.” 

He next turns his attention to his own household, and 
supervises, as from the first days of his pontificate, his 
kitchen; lest, peradventure, one of those spurious mush¬ 
rooms, dished up from Juvenal's to Donna Olympia’s 
times, crown him too soon with martyrdom. He 
abolishes the old orders, and establishes a new, and 
only one, of merit; and that he calls dello Spirito Santo; 
which he divides into three classes, each being of equal 
value. The first he bestows on individuals of the priest- 


ROMANCE. 


•2*27 


hood, of tried merit; the second, on persons of military 
and diplomatic excellence; and the third, on those who 
shine in letters and the arts. He arranges his residences 
thus: from November to May,he dwells in the Vatican; 
from that month, to the end of June, he resides at Tivoli; 
and having been bequeathed some thousands of scudi , 
he purchases with his legacy the Villa d’Este, then hap¬ 
pening to be on sale, and builds in its room a rural 
cottage, destroying the artificial cascades, and letting 
the streams flow naturally through the grounds. He 
admits there no statues, no pictures; nothing but a small 
library. He occupies Castel Gandolfo from July to the 
end of October. Returning to the Vatican in November, 
he hurls a thunderbolt of mind at the Quirinal Palace, 
by simply ordering a caster of bronze to form, in that 
metal, the following inscription: Collegio delle Discipline 
Matematiche e Fisiche. He provides, that from the 
subsequent year, five professors should be paid each 
eight hundred scudi annually, with the injunction that 
they should deliver, each, lectures on the above sciences, 
for at least six weeks every year. He cuts up the 
Quirinal into apartments for these professors, and the 
president, who are to be laics, and privileged to marry. 
He distributes also the immense range of building into 
rooms, capable of receiving about one hundred and 
fifty students. From this excellent college would emerge 


228 


HORjE 


several of the medical and surgical professors, destined 
to pursue their vocations in divers parts of Italy. The 
Collegio Romano he purposes to devote to the cultivation 
of ancient and modern languages, and to all the branches 
of the belles-lettres. The Sapienza he dedicates wholly 
to theology and moral philosophy. 

Urbano would next undertake the delicate operation 
of desecrating the churches dedicated to the obscure 
saints of the middle ages; and he would commence with 
the Pantheon, observing shrewdly, that having been a 
pagan edifice, it should be restored to secular purposes. 
The ceremony introductory to the desecration, he orders 
thus: after the usual prayers, the Dean of the sacred 
College draws a veil over each of the altars; and Urbano, 
with a small pickaxe, strikes two or three gentle blows 
on the interstices of the pavement; also against the ex¬ 
terior walls. He then consigns the pickaxe to a laic 
mason. He uses the same ceremony in the desecration 
of the other churches above alluded to. This done, he 
gives orders to new pave the Pantheon, and to give it a 
new foot of Tiburtine all round the exterior. He pro¬ 
poses also to leave it, as soon as circumstances will per¬ 
mit, in the centre of a tolerably regular square; but this 
he scarcely hopes to live long enough to see. He also 
devotes the seven grand recesses to the reception of the 
busts of the illustrious modern Italians. He suggests. 


ROMANCE. 


229 


that over the key-stone of one of the recesses, the word 
Poet be inscribed in plain bronze letters; on the 
second, Historici ET Philologi ; on the third, 
Sculptores et Architecti ; on the fourth, Physici 
et Mathematici; on the fifth, Musicr ; on the sixth, 
PlCTORES ; while a statue of Apollo, conceived in a 
new attitude, should fill the greater recess opposite the 
entrance doors, with the busts of the nine Muses, placed 
on brackets, each let into the wall of the recess behind. 
He provides, that each of the other recesses should be 
fitted up with a hundred marble brackets, destined to 
receive the portraits of the individuals who may figure in 
one or other of the above-mentioned arts and sciences. 
He suggests also, that these need not be filled for several 
centuries to come; confined, as the honour would be, to 
men of tried and first-rate merit. 

He provides, that a new statue of Roma , in a sitting 
attitude, be placed in the centre of the Rotunda, with 
this inscription, from Erirma’s Ode, to be mosaically in¬ 
serted in bronze characters on the pedestal: 


MOI MONA nPESBYTA AEAOIKE MOIPA 
KYA02 APPHKT& BA2IAIIION APXA2 
04>PA KOIPANEION EX0I2A KAPT02 


AFEMONEYa 


230 


HORvE 


The Pope, this year, loses his favourite sister, Donna 
Leonora Fioravanti, married to a rich proprietor of that 
name, in the Abruzzi. The disease that carried her ofl 
was a cancer in the womb. She was in the days of her 
youth, festivissima omnium, puellarum; but swerved 
from the right path. For his other unmarried sister, 
Eugenia Benincasa, an excellent woman, he always 
nourished a brotherly affection—but he loved Leonora. 
On being informed of her death, he shuts himself up at 
Castel Gandolfo, living on nothing but bread, water, and 
a few herbs, for more than a fortnight. 

Rallying by degrees his spirits, on his return to Rome, 
he walks in the garden of the Vatican, with the Cardinal 
of Araceli , who is suspected of being an ultra-liberal. 
“ Now, my dear Cardinal,” says the Pontiff, “ can Rome 
enjoy more liberty than she does now, consistently with 
her being sole dispensatrix of the Catholic religion ? 
You cannot have at Rome the entire and riotous liberty, 
or rather license, of a republic, if at the same time she 
is to be consistent with her sacred character. And after 
all, is that extreme license in human societies desirable, 
which has been preached with such fury, in France 
especially, during the last half century ? Do not religion 
and philosophy teach us that more than half of the ele¬ 
ments that enter into that incomprehensible composition, 
man, are of a restive and untractable nature?. No one 


ROMANES. 231 

is more hostile to tyranny than myself, especially if it 
be grafted on the hereditary principle. But the great 
au ty ^f our institutions is, that though certain ordon- 
nances in some cases may appear savouring of constraint, 
still it must be remembered that they emanate from a 
system grafted on the elective principle, and bulwarked 
by respect for religion. No human institutions can 
unite all desiderata. In every thing that touches man, 
both individually and collectively, there are certain com¬ 
pensating balances, from the study of which it is the 
business of the legislator to derive the best possible re¬ 
sult. Remember the fine remark of Machiavelli: 4 In 
tutte le cose umane , si cede questo, chi le esaminerd bene, 
che non si pud mai cancellare uno inconveniente , che non 
si surga un aliro Because I prohibit pernicious and 
free-thinking books, I am called by some a narrow¬ 
minded bigot. I will grant, for the sake of argument, 
that these books are beneficial to their readers, the re¬ 
verse being generally the case, still were I to admit their 
free circulation in Rome, should I not be playing the 
part of a traitor to my sacred office ? Low, and narrow¬ 
minded indeed should I be, were I to prohibit works 
that assist the sciences, the arts, and agriculture. But 
of what advantage do I deprive Rome, in prohibiting 
the sceptical, and sometimes atheistical works of Hume, 
Voltaire, Diderot, and others of that stamp ? Twenty 


232 


HORjE 


years ago, when I lived for a short time at Ariccia, l 
devoted a fortnight to the perusal of Hume’s infidel 
writings. What did I gain by them ?—a spirit in a 
vague and disturbed state, unable to find in his works 
any pivot on which it might rest. I like to see people 
reading in Rome his History of England; but I should 
be false to my duties, were I not to do all in my power 
to prohibit the dissemination of works that undermine 
the special basis on which the Roman religion and 
policy repose. O the insupportable tyranny that ex¬ 
cludes from Rome about three or four hundred books, 
the perusal of which, in ninety-nine minds out of a hun¬ 
dred, is attended by baneful effects! Always will I 
oppose the introduction of those works into the city. If 
people like to study them, let them go to other countries 
—Roma la Santa has the city been, since the days of 
Saint Peter; and Roma la Santa shall she remain.” 
He walks with the same Cardinal, to the church of San 
Salvatore , at least seventeen centuries old, and says: 
“ 1 would rather be reduced to beggary than see a stone 
of this venerable edifice removed. Here it was that I 
preached for some months; and I love the church to 
my soul.” 

A few days after, he issues an edict prohibiting, for 
the future, that any church whatever should afford a 
place of asylum from arrest to criminals guilty of heinous 


ROMANCE. 


233 


offences, such as burglary, assault, and murder; but lie 
leaves the altars of the three principal churches still 
open, as a refuge to those guilty only of petty larceny, 
and similar small misdemeanors. 

He walks, one Whitsun-eve, to the Campidoglio, with 
the Cardinal di San Bartolomeo , and says to him, after 
casting his eyes round the hospitals of Rome, from the 
statue of Marcus Aurelius : “ Is not Rome already over- 
liospitalled ? All that I shall do, will be, to cause to be 
erected, in the environs of Tivoli, an assemblage of 
about a dozen cottages, whereto those afflicted with the 
malaria fever shall be transported; if not all, at least a 
considerable number.” This put in train for execution, 
during the Christmas holidays he cracks a bottle of 
Xerez, brown and mellow with the age of thirty years, 
with the amiable Cardinal di San Luca; this wine, to 
the amount of fifty dozens, had been sent to him as a 
special present, from the Dean and Canons of the cathe¬ 
dral of Seville; and which he had just stored in the 
cellars of the Vatican. The Cardinal, having been be¬ 
queathed a legacy of twenty-five thousand scudi, and 
being now in the vale of years, tells Urbano he wishes 
to devote the same to the destruction of the two foun¬ 
tains enclosed by Bernini’s colonnade, now half eaten 
away by the action of the waters, and covered with 
green weeds; with this proviso, that the Pontiff* would 


‘234 


HORiE 


allow him to double the size of the two basins, give them 
a circular form, and place in the centre of each a rock, 
from which the waters should be made to gush, in a 
cascade of ten feet in each. He bargains also, that 
through the falling waters, which will be in broad and 
thin laminae, these words should appear in bronze 
letters: 


ECCE SAXUM ! ECCE VIVI FONTES ! 

And that on each side of the two rocks should appear 
Carrara marble figures of the angels of the four Evan¬ 
gelists, two on each rock, and each pointing with his 
right hand to the inscription on the rocks. Urbano, 
on hearing the proposal, leaping from his seat, and 
embracing the Cardinal, exclaims: “ Tu sei il jiore di 
tutti i miei Cardinali; fattelo subito .” 

The Pontiff, nevertheless, is by no means ardent in 
spending much money in mere ornamental embellish¬ 
ments. Walking one morning before breakfast, with 
the Cardinal of Sant' Andrea della Valle , he observes: 
“ Is not Rome already stifled with art ? I will not throw 
obstacles in its way; neither will I do much to en¬ 
courage it. What I want to see is a cheerful and happy 
peasantry, inhabiting well-ordered farms in the Apen¬ 
nines ; and not a set of banditti in those mountains, at 


ROMANCE. 


235 


present the refuse of Europe, and thinking of nothing 
but murder, theft, and a picture of the Madonna. My 
purpose is to institute triennial prizes; the first, of three 
hundred scudi; the second, of two hundred; and the 
last, of one hundred scudi; to be given, with a silver 
medal, to the three best agriculturists, who shall have 
displayed the most intelligence and neatness in rural 
economy. The arbiters shall be the majority of an agro¬ 
nomical society, which I purpose next year to organize, 
and which shall consist of at least twenty-one members. 
There is no end to mania for antiquities—Have not the 
monuments been engraved usque ad nauseam ? None 
but a coxcomb can feel enthusiasm in contemplating 
many of those vile brick arches, which have no more 
interest than two sections of an old brick-kiln. At 
the same time, I will provide, as I hope will my 
successors, that the splendid lines of aqueducts shall 
be kept in occasional repair, at the expense, from time 
to time, of a few hundreds of scudi? 

He next revokes, in full consistory, the decree of Pius 
VII. which re-established the order of the Jesuits, 
taking a luminous view of the rise and progress of the 
order, from the date of its creation, to that of its disso¬ 
lution. He observes, in the course of his speech, that 
the corruption and intrigues of the order had become 
so barefaced, as to require the interposition of every 


236 


HOR.^ 


government that had hitherto tolerated them ; and that 
this consideration ought to have weighed with his pre¬ 
decessor, Pius VII. He nevertheless panegyrizes the 
high talents that marked several individuals of the 
order; observing, that education owed more to them 
than to any other Catholic fraternity; but that notwith¬ 
standing, so creeping and subtle was the spirit of 
intrigue that always influenced the order, the decree for 
their dissolution by Clement XIV. will always be cited 
by the candid, as the most glorious act of his pon¬ 
tificate. 

In the succeeding month, he turns his attention to the 
military resources of the pontifical states, and comes to 
the determination of not supporting more of regular 
infantry than eight thousand, nor more of cavalry than 
four thousand, with a small park of artillery. He is 
very angry with the general-in-chief, if he finds that a 
considerable interval elapses without their exercising. 
He attends annually a grand review of all the forces 
quartered at and near Rome, and held near the ruins of 
Fidence. He goes there in his pontifical carriage ; and 
the troops pass him with the usual ceremonies. Each 
battalion is composed of five hundred men, and no 
more. The first regiment is his favourite ; of which 
even the ensigns and lieutenants from time to time par¬ 
take of the pontifical table on fast-days. This regiment 
forms his body guard. 


ROMANCE. 


237 


The ensuing summer, he holds two or three confe¬ 
rences at Castel Gandolfo, with five profound lawyers, 
preparatory to striking a formidable blow at the old 
Roman aristocracy. “ It must be established on simpler 
principles; I do not want to extinguish it,” cries 
Urbano. “ Of all points of legislation,” he continues, 
“ the judicious organization of any aristocracy always 
appeared to me the most difficult. My new basis for 
the aristocracy, I neither take from Filangieri, nor 
Machiavelli; but solely from my own brain. What 
will furnish its primum mobile is the assertion of Mon¬ 
tesquieu : ‘ Les families aristocratiques doivent etre 
peuple autant que possible. Plus line aristocratie 
approcliera de la democratic plus elle sera parfaiie .’ 
Following this wise precept, I am come to the determina¬ 
tion of exterminating all those coxcomb titles of Principe, 
Marchese, Duca, Barone , and Conte. No one shall here¬ 
after, in the Roman states, be his landed or funded pro¬ 
perty what it may, have any other title than that of il 
onorabile Signore , and Vonorabile Signora; and the 
qualification for any individual, holding that title, shall 
be his or her possession of a clear annual rental from 
land only , of at least four thousand scudi. This 
minimum should, perhaps, every half century, be raised 
or lowered, according to the greater or less influx of 
money into Rome. A new valuation of the estates 


238 


hor^ 


shall be immediately made at the registry-office. All 
other persons, as well as the sons and daughters of the 
new nobles, shall be simply Signore and Donna. If 
any foreigner chooses to buy land in the Roman states, 
he may do so; but he cannot enjoy the title of onorabile , 
but by an act of naturalization, which shall not be con¬ 
ferred, unless the stranger shall have been possessed of 
the estate for the period of at least ten years, and 
shown himself a man of energy and respectability. It 
is not true that this law has a mere reference to the 
possession of money. For let a man be possessed of 
any given amount of scudi , vested in funds, navigation, 
or merely houses, he will not be noble. This rental 
conferring the title onorabile must only proceed from 
land, arable, or pasture, or both. My law will operate 
differently in relation to natives and foreigners. Peralto 
of Perugia is possessed of land with a chateau of the 
annual value of four thousand eight hundred scudi. It 
follows that he is ononabile. But John Bone, an Eng¬ 
lish protestant is possessed of quasi the same sum from 
arable and pasture lands in the Apennines. If the 
estate be bond fide purchased, possession shall be 
guaranteed to him ; but he cannot be a Roman onorabile , 
unless he profess the Catholic religion, and have been 
owner of the estate at least ten years. 

<£ This law will operate beneficially in several ways; 


ROMANiE. 


*239 


it will give a spur to agricultural industry, eminently 
desirable for Rome, the basis of whose policy is pacific ; 
and this mild and well-tempered aristocracy, blending 
on nearly equal terms with the people, will disarm 
envious feelings, raised as it will be on a broad basis; 
and at the same time guarantee that civilization of 
intercourse, without which human societies are no better 
than bear-gardens. Law has always attached, and 
wisely, an adscititious respectability to the more con¬ 
siderable landholders. This law, my own invention, 
has been long ruminated by me, and studied in all its 
bearings. By it I will either stand or fall.—Cardinal¬ 
secretary, give this the form of a Motu Proprio , and see 
that it be carried into execution the first day of the 
next year. I will not act in this case like a certain ' 
island in the north, keeping two chambers in a per¬ 
petual fret of discussion for five or six years, and then 
throwing out the law, by means of compromising con¬ 
ferences.” 

This gran colpo di Stato rouses a host of enemies 
against him, and his life hangs on a cobweb. Sensible 
of this, he is more than usually alert with the military, 
and principal functionaries. A splendid review takes 
place, in which each piece of artillery is answered by 
another from the castle of St. Angelo. He orders three 
picked regiments to be stationed at Castel Gandolfo, 


•240 


HOR^ 


whither he arrives himself next morning at sunrise. On 
ascending the hill at Albano, a pistol-shot, discharged 
from behind the tomb of the Horatii and Curiatii, passes 
through his carriage. He says to the colonel of his 
body guard : “ They want to convince me of the folly of 
my law, by having recourse to the plumbean argument.” 
The troops parade, morning and evening, before the 
terrace of Castel Gandolfo. A silence pervades the 
whole city. Faces, pale and yellow with concentrated 
ire and bile, are seen to sally forth from the portals of 
most of the palazzi; and mutterings to this effect are 
heard— Sporckeria di Pontefice! Saranno le cose cosi ? 
—Noi Valtissimo , Santissimo e purissimo scitigue Ro¬ 
mano , gettati come porci nel suo nuovo fango onorabile ! 
A villa, waving with splendid pines, and not remarkable 
for easy access, becomes the focus of machinations 
against the Pontiff. Nine of the old families swear, on 
the day that the new edict is to take effect, to parade in 
their coaches, with all their old insignia, repeatedly 
from the Corso to the Vatican and back. But the 
majority side with the Pontiff, consisting, however, 
chiefly of those who have little but their titles to boast 
of. The Pontiff is indefatigable ; and patroles doubled 
parade the streets of the city all night. His cook re¬ 
veals to his master, to whom he is much attached, that 
he has received a letter, promising a reward of five 


ROMANCE. 


•241 


thousand scudi, if he would mix a dose of acqua tuffana 
in the papal coffee; the letter is produced, traced to its 
author with direct and circumstantial evidence; the 
culprit, of the high old blood, is arraigned, condemned, 
and executed on a scaffold at the top of the castle of 
Saint Angelo, in the space of six hours ; and his head, 
borne on a pike through the city, puts an end to all 
further commotion. The Pontiff, walking to and fro in 
the great antechamber adorned with the frescoes of the 
battle of Lepanto, addressing one of his secretaries, 
says: “ Thank God, I had not enrolled this fellow 
among my new onorabili —it was these acqua tuffanati 
who poisoned, two or three centuries ago, the hearts of 
the Roman people; throwing a chill of suspicion on all 
their social intercourse. Had he fired a pistol at me, I 
might, perhaps, eventually have forgiven him. I am, 
however, willing to believe, that these offences are quasi 
obsolete in Rome.” 

After recruiting his spirits for ten days at Castel 
Gandolfo, Urbano regains the Vatican, when one of 
the junior Cardinals, having had a rich bequest, meets 
accidentally the Pontiff in the Camera delV Incendio 
del Borgo , and proposes to him to erect, at his own cost, 
a new fronton to the church of Araceli. “ You see, 
Santo Padre” showing at the same time the drawing, 
“ it will be an octastyle front of eight Doric columns, 


242 


TIOR.E 


from the theatre of Marcellus, and of Carrara marble; 
the tympanum of the pediment will exhibit, in alto- 
relievo , a figure of Religion with her cup and crucifix, 
in the same material. But as the other three sides are 
but little seen, I propose, with your permission, Santo 
Padrej to incur but little expense in altering them.” 
u Che sia fatto dunqae , benamato fanciullo , in trenta 
mesi da quest ’ ora” retorts Urbano, giving amiably his 
benediction. 

Carlo Cirenzi, architect, meets the Pope one day in 
the Camera di Heliodoro. He was a school-fellow of 
the Pontiff’, who recognising him immediately, in spite 
of his altered aspect and shabby attire, says, shaking 
him by the hand : “ I fear the things of this world at 
least, are at a low ebb with you—Come and breakfast 
with me to-morrow morning.” “ You have been in 
England lately,” says Urbano, the next morning, at the 
breakfast table ; “ they like there hot buttered rolls for 
breakfast; there is one for you.” Cirenzi, on removing 
the crust, sees a slip of paper, containing a draft for 
five hundred scudi. “ Now, my good friend,” says the 
Pontiff, u you know the obelisk of Sisto Quinto, facing 
St. Peter’s. I wish, by this day week, you will efface 
the words of the inscription, fiigite partes adverse, and 
those only ; insert in their room a thin slab of the same 
granite as the obelisk.” 


ROMANCE. 


243 


The Pontiff is generally an early riser, a rigorous ob¬ 
server in Lent, but rarely appears at St. Peter’s, except 
in the holy week, on the benediction day, and one or 
two other festivals. Like Sisto Quinto, he wears a 
horse-hair cilix on most fast-days; on other days, a 

• .1 

shirt nearly allied in texture to sail-cloth, as is his bed- 
linen. Not even his confessor could ever learn the 
reason of the cilix. Scandal, however, whispers, but 
on no sure foundation, that in the hot blood of his youth 
he got a girl of Velletri with child, who died in her 
travail; which he took to heart. His private oratory 
is simple: the altar is of plain white marble, left so on 
festivals, and covered with a very fine black cloth cover 
on fasts. A crucifix, by Benvenuto Cellini, over the 
consecrated wafer, stands in the centre of four tapers 
occasionally lighted. Their stands are small, and of 
pure gold. Opposite the altar is a portrait of the Virgin 
and Child, by Pellegrino Tebaldi, in a plain ebony 
frame: and these are all the ornaments of his oratory. 
He generally resides at the Vatican, in the Camera del 
Papagallo: he arranges two other chambers; one 
called la Camera dei Fasci, where he transacts business 
with the officers of state; another, la Camera del 
Pavone, where he receives respectable ladies. One of 
the old princesses hearing that he has just finished his 
oratory, and gaining admittance thereto, entreats him to 


244 


HO RJE 


adopt the only really venerable design for an altar-piece. 
She orders a servant to unpack a model of an altar- 
piece, in which two highly coloured wax figures of the 
Madonna and Child appear, each with glass eyes, and 
covered with a veil of pink sarsnet, and set off with 
silver tinsel. “ Only see, Santo Padre” she cries, 
“ how beautifully I have embellished them with 
pinks, jonquils, passion-flowers, roses, and carnations !” 
“ Good lady,” cries the Pontiff, “ you cannot oblige me 
more than by transferring the sarsnet veil to your toilet- 
glass, the two dolls to your nursery, and the plants to 
your green-house;” giving her at the same time his 
benediction. “No more Arlecchino liveries in my 
household !” he cries to his major domo, “ see that all 
my servants be simply liveried in purple cloth frocks, 
and those of no fine texture.” Walking one morning 
in the Camera della Torre Borgia , he meets Calci the 
plasterer. “ Calci,” he says, “ I hear you are a good 
intonaco-mixer. Prepare some for me, of much the 
same quality as that in the Chiaramonte Museum ; just 
enough to cover the brick pavement of the Vatican 
library for about a hundred feet. That is all I want to 
do; I shall leave the finishing of the work to my suc¬ 
cessors ; I only want to furnish the style in which it 
should be completed.” Turning to his private secretary, 
he says, “ Write to Taglacherci,the great wood-merchant 


ROMANiE. 


245 


at Leghorn. I know he has dealings in America. Tell 
him to procure therefrom for me, on my private account, 
seven hundred tons of best American cedar. Tell him, 
I expect that by this day twelvemonth, his vessel or 
vessels will be moored in Citta Vecchia, with their 
cargo.” The cargo arrives ; and is housed in the church 
a few years before dedicated to Antony of Padua and 
his pig. A portion of this timber is formed into the 
first book-cases for the Vatican library; and finished 
with locks from England. Turning to Cirenzi, the 
architect, he says: “ Your son is a good draftsman; I 
wish he would draw for me a plan of a new facade for 
a grand quay from the Porta del Popolo to the Ponte 
St. Angelo; let the houses be rather low than other¬ 
wise, each house to belong to one family, and chequered 
with several shops on the ground floor, as in England. 
The quay shall be lined with Tiburtine all the way 
down to the bridge. Do not let the houses bear any 
architectural order. Observe throughout the hello 
semplice. Let him also draw a plan for a theatre of 
moderate dimensions, in a pleasing architectural style, 
which I intend shall be in the centre of the new walk 
on the Pincian. I intend it, during the Carnival, for the 
representation of Alfieri’s and Goldoni’s plays especially. 
I intend also, at some future time, to arrange a musical 
saloon, for the sacred oratorios in Lent. These build- 


24.0 


jiom: 


ings have never been rightly understood. One shall be 
built, lined throughout with very thin panels of deal; 
which is an idea of my own; and which will ensure the 
good effect of the music, much better than the stone, 
brick, or stucco, of which they are usually built. With 
regard to the new quay, in a few years hence, the whole 
of the houses on the side nearest the Tiber may be 
removed. In the new range of buildings, let two spa¬ 
cious chemists’ shops appear, each with laboratories 
behind, and presenting, as in London, a good display in 
front. About the middle of this quay, let a market¬ 
place be established. Let it be of three distinct build¬ 
ings; forming three sides of a parallelogram. Take 
twenty columns of Segestan Doric, each twelve feet in 
height, with each intercolumniation of five diameters. 
Carry all along strong oak benches and dressers; and 
let one side be the butchers’ market. The corresponding 
wing shall be the game and poultry market; while the 
side at the end shall be the cheese, milk, and butter 
market. The Piazza Navona shall remain as now, the 
fruit and vegetable market, but with new stalls for the 
venders. Place a small fountain, which may be con¬ 
ducted from the Trevi , in the centre of this new market. 
The columns shall be only towards the Court, the other 
sides shall be enclosed in walls. Let , your son design 
this; but I can hardly hope to do much more than lay 
the first stone of the whole plan.” 


ROMANCE. 


247 


A deputation of the principal Jews resident in Rome 
is ushered into the Camera dei Fasci; who supplicate 
a more liberal system of policy with respect to the class 
of their persuasion. “ We will take it into considera¬ 
tion,” replies the Pontiff, at the same time dismissing 
them. Turning to the Cardinale di San Pietro , he 
says: “ A veil of mystery, Cardinal, hangs round this 
people, which we cannot rend asunder. They shall not 
be persecuted; neither shall they be encouraged. At 
the same time, I will allow them to have two synagogues 
in Rome and no more. They shall also be allowed to re¬ 
side where they will, but I repeat, I should be sorry to 
see their numbers greatly increased in the city. If they 
should even threaten to gain an ascendancy in numbers, 
it will be necessary in this city, the domicile of Catho¬ 
licism, to make their residence here any thing but 

desirable, by the imposition of a heavy capitation tax 

/ 

on all individuals of their persuasion.” 

Burrelli, the lawyer, is ushered into the Camera del 
Papagallo. “ I wish to explain to you,” says the Pope, 
“ the operation of my new law, Burrelli, relative to the 
nobles. Primogeniture ought to subsist in Rome. The 
optimism of primogeniture I consider to be, when the 
heir at law inherits the whole landed property, which 
should be charged with some, but not heavy, deductions, 
to be divided equally among the junior branches of the 
family. Let me explain. According to my late law, 


248 


HORjE 


A. , of Tivoli, is possessed of a nett annual revenue from 
land of four thousand seven hundred scudi. He is, con ¬ 
sequently, one of my new onorabili. He has two sisters 
and one brother. Now the question is, what should be 
the per cent, deduction from the annual proceeds of the 
estate, in favour of the junior branches? I am tempted 
to think, that a deduction of five or six per cent, from 
the whole profits, would be about the mark. If you 
deduct nothing in their favour, ill-will in the family is 
the necessary consequence; if you make a heavy de¬ 
duction, say twenty per cent, A. will not only be 
scarcely able to live on the estate, but all his efforts 
towards its melioration become paralysed, consequently 
the public suffer from an overstrained principle of 
law. Observe, too,” he says, “ another beneficial 
operation of my proposed law. A., the owner of the 
estate, is, we will say, a profligate spendthrift. In con¬ 
sequence of his debts, he is forced to sell his estate; 

B. , a wealthy and industrious capitalist in money, pur¬ 
chases it, and becomes, eo instanti , one of my new 
onorabili. Thus, you see, my new law must operate as 
a check to profligacy, and at the same time as a spur to 
honest industry.” Burrelli’s remarks in answer are not 
recorded. 

In the subsequent week, a deputation from the 
Protestants resident in Home, is introduced into the 


-ROMANCE. 


249 


Camera della Segnatura, and dismissed with : “ We 
will take your address into consideration .” Their ob¬ 
ject is, to obtain permission for the erection of a certain 
number of churches for the followers of their persuasion. 
“ Nothing thorns me more than these addresses,” says 
Urbano to the Cardinal of Araceli; “ if I reject them, 
I am called, even by many persons of education, a 
narrow-minded bigot; if I acquiesce to them unre¬ 
servedly, 1 sap, as it were, the fundamental bases of the 
Roman religion and policy. In these cases, a mezzo 
termine is always the wisest mode of proceeding. Let 
the Protestants have two of the largest dismantled 
churches, and no more; but they must look to the 
fitting of them up themselves. If we continue to do our 
duty, and to expand our souls to more liberal principles, 
than hitherto, the word protestantism will become quasi 
obsolete in Rome, and in many other countries.” 

Don Antonio Melendez, the ambassador of Spain, is 
ushered into the same chamber. He complains, that in 
consequence of the desecration of Santa Teresa, the 
city of Aviles is in commotion ; that the priests are 
insulted in their own houses, for no longer performing 
service on the day formerly appointed for the consecra¬ 
tion of her divinity; that the women attribute every 
disease or misfortune that befalls them to your wicked¬ 
ness (as they call it), Santo Padre. “ Your excellency 


250 


HORj3£ 


will observe,” says rather coldly the Pontiff, “ that what 
has been done with regard to Teresa, and many others, 
who have obtained in Spain as well as elsewhere, rather 
hastily, the titles of saints, is the act of the Council of 
St. John of Lateran. Teresa was, no doubt, an excel¬ 
lent woman; but is that any reason why she should, 
century after century, monopolize the spirits of the city 
of Aviles ? Let your functionaries do but their duty, and 
the tumults in Aviles will cease.” 

Soon after, a deputation from the principal bankers 
and capitalists of Rome, are summoned by the Pontiff 
to the Camera dei Fasci. He says to them: “ I know 
that the funded and banking systems, established on the 
extensive principle they have been in Holland and 
England, will not suit either the genius of the Roman 
people, or their resources. But that is no reason why a 
bank, with laic directors, should not be organized. Its 
nominal influence alone, even with but little activity in 
the interchange of monies, will be of great use. I intend 
to devote the great building, gentlemen, opposite the 
obelisk of Heliopolis, and close to the post-office and 
Antonine’s column, to the purposes of a national bank. 
You should commence with a small capital—supposing 
we say two millions of scudi to begin with. What regu¬ 
lations may be adopted with regard to the interest given, 
and other particulars, I leave to your better judgment.” 


ROMANCE. 


251 


An architect, in poverty, contrives to gain admittance 
to the Pontiff. He submits to him, all in a hurry, a de¬ 
sign for what he calls necessary improvements for the 
port of Citta Vecchia. It exhibits all the orders of 
architecture, very ill put together. “ It will only cost 
one million and half of scudi, Santo Padre” he adds. 
“ Leave it on my table,” says Urbano, giving him at the 
same time a purse with twenty scudi. “ This poor fel¬ 
low,” says the Pope, turning to his confidential secretary, 
and tearing the plan to pieces, “ thinks that the Braschi 
blood flows in my veins. He wants me to act as Braschi 

' s 

did at Terracina, who thought he could there make a 
flourishing port, by erecting, at a great expense, a vast 
line of buildings, now in ruins. Citta Vecchia is already 
rather overbuilt. If increasing commerce fattens it, I 
shall know how to meet it with commensurate improve¬ 
ments.” 

Glad is Urbano now to retire to his villa at Tivoli, for 
a few weeks. During his residence there, Father 
O’Flaghanan, of Roscommon, and who was his school¬ 
fellow at Sant' Andrea della Valle , arrives at Tivoli, to 
visit the cascades. Urbano, hearing by accident of his 
arrival, desires his company to dine. Mutual cordialities 
take place. The Pontiff, on the removal of the cloth, 
says: “ I cannot give you Irish viski, my dear O’Flag¬ 
hanan, but we will open together a bottle of old Sabine. 


252 


HOlliE 


Vile potabis modicis Sabinum cantharis ? You see I 
have not forgotten my Horace, which we used to scan 
together at SanV Andrea della Valle.” O’Flaghanan, 
taking him up, exclaims in a sonorous voice: “ Reddit 
laudes tibi Vaticani montis imago! You see, Santo 
Padre , I have not forgotten mine.” The Pontiff bows 
his head, and smiles. 

In the mean time, Pasquin and Marforio are busy at 

Rome. The first appears with a sort of hat on his head, 

composed of twisted roots of passion-flowers, and of 

arbor vita. The last asks him why he wears so uncouth 

and uncomfortable a hat? Pasquin replies: “ Se la 

•* 

tiara e falta Radicale, perche non il mio capello ?” In 
short, Urbano is nick-named the radical Pope. With 
regard to the theatres, he will admit of the opening of 
none, but from about Christmas to the end of the carni¬ 
val; but he allows in the summer months the equestrian 
tournaments, and fire-works; and abolishes the old 
horse-races in the Corso, and transfers them to be held 
annually in June, at a race-course fenced off near the 
circus of Caracalla, where the horses for the future are 
to be rode by jockeys. He now visits in succession 
several churches; and conceives such a mortal hatred 
against the old trumpery at the altars, that he orders a 
great mass of the wooden gilt and silver candlesticks to 
be burned. He has been known to ask for a ladder, and 


IiOMANiE. 


253 


to tear away with his own hands the silk curtains fringed 
with gewgaws. Once he met a priest, with the old silk 
and gilt hooded surplice; he tears it from his back, say¬ 
ing: “ Give this to Donna Teresa, the old woman at the 
Trinita fountain; say it comes as a flirtation-present 
from me.” Once, when he was on the ladder, moving 
some of the theatrical curtains from a church, he did it 
with such vehemence, that the cilix, which he happened 
then to wear, was, through the violence of his exertions, 
streaked with blood. 

The consecrated wafer-stands, of simple silver, he 
stations in the centre of four tapers, each emblematic of 
each of the gospels; and their stands are melted down 
into a simpler form, from the antiquated church-plate. 
The ex votos he only suffers to remain three months in 
the churches; when they are to be restored to their re¬ 
spective donors. Walking one day in the Loggie , with 
the Cardinal of Sant ’ Andrea della Valle , he says: “ It 
would be well if the Sacred College were to abolish the 
ceremony of the washing of the twelve mendicants’ feet. 
We have sufficient in our religion to inculcate humility, 
without having recourse to a sort of theatrical imitation 
of our Saviour. But I would not touch, for the whole 
world, the august ceremony of the tow burned at the tip 
of the reed, at the pontifical installation. Cardinal, 
Cardinal, he who struck out of his brain the words: 


254 


HOKiE 


Sancte Pater! sic transit gloria mundi! at the same 
time tipping the reed with fire, was a man of ten thou¬ 
sand ! Had he been my contemporary, I would have 

done much to advance him.” Urbano transplants the 

/ 

singing of the celebrated Miserere from the Sistine to 
the pontifical chapel in the Vatican; in the gallery of 
which the new powerfully-toned organ is arranging. 
He often dines, in a rusty purple suit and slouched hat, 
with the Padri Capuccini , during Lent, eating, like 
them, on his wooden platter, and going there quasi in¬ 
cognito. But in consequence of the immense exhaustion 
his spirits suffer, he has twice a week, even during Lent, 
a joint of roast mutton, or of roast beef, dished up for 
him by Henry Wolsey, formerly cook at the Bedford, in 
London. “ Ah, Henry,” he says one day, tweaking him 
playfully by the ear, “ you won’t serve me an acqua 
tuffana soup, I know.” As for his amusements, during 
the carnival, he sometimes sips coffee w T ith one or two 
artists; but he is reserved and cold to those who execute 
his portraits, either on canvass or marble, never giving 
them any remuneration. He often paces to and fro the 
graud terrace, in the garden behind the Vatican, for an 
hour before breakfast, which he likes to see served up 
on a fine Holland table-cloth; the tea, to which he is 
partial, is of the best quality, and it is sent him from 
Russia. His butter is made for him at a farm near 


ROMANCE. 


255 


Tivoli, by Jenny Talbot, a ruddy-faced dairymaid from 
Devonshire, and it is served him floating among pure 
pieces of ice, from the Simbrivine ponds, in the Sabine 
mountains. Once the Cardinal delle Tsole Britanniche 
was breakfasting with him at his cottage at Tivoli, when 
Jenny had just brought in some fresh butter from Subiaco. 
He summons her into his presence, and says, in tolerable 
English: “Jenny, what sort of a popess do you think 
you would make ? They say we once had a popess 
Joan ; why should there not be a popess Jenny ? Would 
not Jenny, if installed chiefess of the Anglican church, 
perform her functions full as well as popesses Betty and 
Nanny did before ? Would not my Poniificia Maxima 
Jenny be a brillante Vittoria per la chiesa Inglese ? 
To be sure she would, to be sure she would,” he says, 
laughing gutturally, “and were I king of England, I 
would unfrock the bishops, if they refused to be orthodox 
on that head.” Poor Jenny, blushing, staring, pale, 
confused, amazed, thinking the Pope mad, runs away as 
fast as her legs can carry her. 

The Pope was, in his youth, fond of the violin; his 
taste for which he retains, though, since his elevation, 
he has abandoned the instrument. He has specimens 
of all the Amatis, all the Guarneriuses, two Steiners, and 
a first-rate Straduarius. He shows weakness in this in¬ 
stance: one Lucilio Veracini, of Lucca, contrives to 


250 


HORJ5 


throw such a soul of expression into the violin, as almost 
to do what he pleased with the Pontiff. He would run 
with his bow from Handel to Corelli, from Haydn to 
Guglielmi, from Mozart to Palestrina, from Spohr to 
Rossini, from Durante to De Beriot, blending bars from 
each so dexterously, as to make his music appear the 
novel production of one extraordinary composer. This 
man, a worthless fellow, a hump-backed dwarf, and as 
ugly as a baboon, would often creep about his knees, 
and play a thousand pranks. Once he carried his im¬ 
pudence so far, as to swear that he would not touch the 
violin, unless the Pontiff would let him smear his face 
with charcoal marks, to which the Pope submitted. The 
imp carried his impertinence to such a length, as once 
to lock him up in his chaise percee , crying, as he turned 
the lock: u Adesso io sono mezza Papa; per die tengo 
ana chiave della Chiesa Neither would he let the 
Pontiff out, till he had promised to sign a draft in his 
favour for five hundred scudi , and which the Pope, on 
his egress punctually did. 

These lightnesses of character detract a little from the 
dignity of Urbano, though it may easily be conceived, 
that the above freaks occurred with no one present. 
The malignity of Pasquin does not fail to grossly exag¬ 
gerate the interview with Jenny Talbot, making a vile 
pun in English on the occasion. He appeared to Mar- 


ROMANCE. 


257 


forio, one morning, with a very high boot where formerly 
was one of his legs. “ What new fashion have you now? 
You who are legless, what business have you with a 
boot ?” says the latter. “ O, you are not aware of my 
fancy for a tall boot , I see,” retorted Pasquin. This 
joke, proceeding from some English wag at Rome, 
makes, however, the Pontiff more circumspect for the 
future. His enemies, nevertheless, though fixing more 
eyes than Argus’s on him, could never see him smile 
during the holy week. 

At his cottage at Tivoli, he sometimes hears poetry 
recited by young students. He gives there, now and 
then, but only to two or three friends, a concert, exe¬ 
cuted only by the first performers, at which he allows of 
no more instruments than one violoncello, one flute, one 
tenor, and two violins. He has there a small library, 
but very plainly bound; and, aided in his readings by 
one or two learned men, he keeps up something of his 
classical literature. Of the fathers of the church, his 
favourites are, Lactantius, Arnobius, and Gregory of 
Nazianzen. He analyses, sometimes for an hour in his 
garden, the philosophical treatises of Cicero, or a dialogue 
of Plato; he has Tacitus almost by heart; and it was 
remarked, before he opened his batteries against the old 
aristocracy, that he devoted many hours to the pages of 
the acute Florentine secretary. He is so fond of Milton, 

s 


*258 


HORjE 


that he calls him “ il mio Messer Giovanni and he gives 
orders that the Paradises should be translated into 
Italian prose, each book to be illustrated with plates, 
from the drawings of the best artists in Rome. He 
fences in a small park at Castel Gandolfo, and carries 
round the grounds a charming road. Here he sometimes 
drives, before breakfast, two favourite Calabrese ponies, 
in a four-wheeled open carriage, accompanied only by 
Ficoni his gardener, who, like himself, is conversant 
with plants and trees. They breakfast together, now 
and then, at a summer-house, which commands a glorious 
view of the Albano lake. He orders the change of the 
guard at the Vatican, to be without music on fasts and 
ordinary days; but on grand festivals, and on Sundays, 
it is always done accompanied by the superbest band. 
He orders stands for the arms of the soldiers, to be 
placed within the colonnade; prohibiting them for the 
future to appear with their arms in the Basilica. He 
hardly ever attends the parade; but on one day of 
Pentecost he did, where, seeing Anselmo Monticuli, 
commander-in-chief of the pontifical forces, he says "to 
him : “ Breakfast is waiting for us above, General.” At 
table, he asks: “ How many troops are there at Bologna? 
How many in the march of Ancona ? I intend to be at 
Bologna on the first of May. Pitch a camp near that 
town, the middle of April; let it consist of five thousand 


ROMANCE 


259 


infantry and two thousand cavalry, and a park of twelve 
pieces of artillery, of large calibre. I like now and then 
to whiff powder, as did my predecessor, Ligurian Julius. 
Old women, General, are those who think, that without 
a moderate standing army, the machinery of government 
can move. You see the number of regulars forming the 
Roman army, is rather below, than above what it ought to 
be. Rome might justly dub me the tyrant of the Romagna, 
if I had forty thousand regulars. Their support would 
press much too hard on our resources. I should be 
doubly amenable to reprehension, since the basis of the 
Roman policy is eminently pacific. Generally speaking, 
I am averse to standing armies. The same pernicious 
results ensue from large standing armies, as from too 
numerous a priesthood. Both serve to intimidate and 
chain down the people.” 

The Pontiff arrives at Bologna on the fixed day. In 
the same week, a grand review is held. Urbano is on 
the field by six o’clock in the morning. He appears 
mounted on an Andalusian stallion, a present from the 
Court of Madrid, accompanied by the Austrian, Floren¬ 
tine, Sardinian, Spanish, and Neapolitan envoys. He 
wears a white broad-brimmed and slouching hat, with a 
large black band, fastened by a steel buckle; brown 
leather breeches, military boots above the knees, a black 
stock, a plain purple cloth cloak, without star, but 


260 


Ei ORM 


trimmed with fur of the blue fox, a present from the 
President of the United States of America. He wears 
no sword; but white leather gloves reach half way up 
his arms. The troops salute him by platoons. A sham 
fight follows. He takes his station close to one of the 
parks of artillery. A burning wadding stings his cheek 
like a dozen hornets; but he keeps his place. He says, 
laughing, to Monticuli: “ General, these explosions are 
good antidotes, both to physical and political malaria.” 
The whole of the march of Ancona is in a thundering 
blaze. Each cannon, having fired nearly two hundred 
times, begins to liquefy. Thirty-seven officers dine with 
him after the review, which is the only one he ever 
attended on horseback; and he pays dear for the thunder 
of the cannon, never after hearing well with his left ear. 

He arrives, accompanied by the pious Cardinal cli San 
Bartolomeo , an ad ungaem facius homo , at Florence, 
and visits the Abbey of Vallombrosa. He remains with 
the monks three hours. Passing the bridge at Pergola, 
on his return, he says to the Cardinal: “ The advantages 
of these institutions have been never properly appre¬ 
ciated. Too often, indeed, are they the resort of idle 
and stupid beings, blind to the goods they might possess, 
did they but stir themselves. Here are men, whose 
revenues, I am told, are considerable; they ought to 
show a garden of three or four acres, beautifully arranged ; 


ROMANS. 


261 


they ought to have a good chemical apparatus, bought 
in London or Paris; a thousand of the dark firs ought 
to be cut down, and to be supplanted by other trees; 
the dull walls ought to make way for a light iron fence. 
I rate these friars low in my estimation, who have one 
of the most enchanting sites in Italy, and perhaps the 
healthiest; who inhabit a spot celebrated by the English 
Homer.” 

During the journey back to the Vatican, and on 
arriving at Arezzo, he touches the characters of several 
of his predecessors, in conversation with the same Car¬ 
dinal, and says: “ Sixtus IV., Innocent VIII., and 
Alexander VI., were shameless venders of offices, never 
having in their eyes the value of personal merit. 
Clement VII. did great harm to the Romagna, by 
sweating it with over-taxation, wherewith to subsidize 
the Catholics in Ireland, and elsewhere. He was the 
first to give that aspect of desolation to the Campagna, 
from which it has never since recovered. Gregory XIII. 
was, 1 believe, at bottom a good man; but he smarted 
severely for his lavish expenditure in support of Catholi¬ 
cism ; his bigotry, but not, perhaps, his avarice, made 
him unjust; for he expelled many nobles from their pos¬ 
sessions, making them, as was natural, his sworn ene¬ 
mies ; and so little moral courage did he at last show, 
that we know he gave absolution to Piccolomini, swel- 


262 


HOKiE 


tering in blood. Leo X. had but few of the elements 
necessary for a good pontiff. The lustre shed round his 
name, is more due to the illustrious men by whom he 
was accidentally surrounded, than to his own merit. If 
he had had any perception of the finer essence of Chris¬ 
tianity, he would have sent letters missive to the court 
of Madrid, reprobating Torquemada and his inquisition. 
He would also have reprobated with indignation the 
sale of indulgences in Germany, and with all possible 
publicity. Then came the Council of Trent, which 
ought, in my opinion, not only to have openly disap¬ 
proved, but abolished indulgences, as my late Council 
of Lateran has just done. 

“ Julius II.” he continues, “ would have made a much 
better general than pontiff. He was violent in temper, 
and has, for that reason, been too much vilified by pos¬ 
terity. There was something noble about him. Sixtus V. 
deserves the title of extraordinary; notwithstanding that, 
if you analyze attentively several of his acts, they have 
the strong odour of the hogsiy wherein he was cradled. 
Braschi was a vain creature, and much spoiled by 
luxury. Had I been his doctor, I would have prescribed 
for him the occasional adoption of my horsehair cilix, 
to serve as a good anti-luxury cataplasm, which you 
know I call my fine cambric shift , my fine cambric 
shift” he says, repeating his words, and laughing 


ROMANS. 


‘263 


gutturally. They arrive at Le Vene, where the Clitumnus, 
gushing in a thousand blue eddies, arrests his attention. 
u Happy are they,” he cries, “ who in Italy possess a 
mansion close to such a stream! I should prefer it to 
half the works of art in Rome.” Then resuming one of 
his odd moods, he says, “ Come, Cardinal, indifferent as 
I am, you must allow' I am almost as good as Braschi; 
though, to be sure, you may say in your next sermon, 
there is abundant room for improvement; for my con¬ 
science tells me I am a tristo ecclesiaclastico , an tris- 
tissimo ecclesiaclastico ,” alluding to his demolition of the 
seventy churches, laughing in a shrill tone, and at the 
same time so pinching the wrist of the Cardinal, as al¬ 
most to make it black and blue. 

As they pass through Spoleto together, a conversation 
ensues, on the comparative merits of the Roman and 
English liturgies. He says: “ We have nothing so 
comprehensive and fine in our ritual, as the English 
litany; and for this reason I propose its adoption in our 
service. But, I think, this is the only point in which 
the English ritual surpasses our own. Many of the 
British prayers, individually considered, are fine com¬ 
positions ; still it must be confessed, that they are op¬ 
pressed with a heavy tautology. The impressive pauses 
of silence, which mark our Mass, are worth twenty of 
the prayers of the English church. Nothing is wanting 


26*4 


HORiE 


to perfect the Mass, bat its pronunciation in the indi¬ 
genous dialects of the different countries of Catholicism; 
and this change I purpose to adopt. But I will not 
imitate the English in adopting the reading the chapters 
of the Old Testament. The English generally have the 
reputation for good sense, but in this last respect they 
scarcely answer to that title. For, Cardinal, is not the 
study of the Old Testament a crux liter aria even for 
men of some acquirements ? Can they comprehend all 
its allegorical allusions, without the help of commentaries 
on their table ? Every body knows that the Old Testa¬ 
ment is, in its general character, a consecutive history, 
in chapters, nearly all of the subsequent of which de¬ 
pend on the precedent. Yet these are read by chapters 
in the English Church, to rustic congregations, for the 
most part, not only ignorant of the allegories frequently 
interspersed, but also of the matter contained in the pre¬ 
ceding chapter, on the recollection of which the under¬ 
standing of the chapter in reading depends. With 
regard to the New Testament, I propose to have it 
printed separately, and dispersed, at a cheap rate, among 
the people. If the English are wrong in reading the 
Old Testament, we also have been to the full as wrong 
as they, in the enunciation of our prayers in rusty Latin. 
One of the great points of superiority of original Catho¬ 
licism over Protestantism, consists in the importance 


ROMANS. 


265 


attached to the doctrine of confession, which is too 
vaguely insisted upon by the Protestants. It not only 
has been consecrated by the usage of the earliest church, 
but is also based on a profound knowledge of the human 
heart. For, Cardinal, are not the criminal annals of all 
nations replete with instances of the human heart being 
relieved by confession of guilt, not only in reference to 
the major crimes, but also to those minor sins which in¬ 
fest the best of us ? On the other hand, I vehemently 
disapprove of a prying spirit, too common in the con- 
fessors of our persuasion.” 

The next Easter, Lord Kelater, a Catholic peer of 
Ireland, and former acquaintance of the Pope, arrives 
at Rome with a large retinue. He is ushered into the 
Camera del Papagallo by the Cardinal delle I sole 
Britanniche. The peer, well versed in ecclesiastical 
and civil polity, expatiates with the Pope on the different 
aspects assumed by the Catholic church, since the first 
explosion of the French revolution to the present day. 
“ Ah ! my dear Lord,” cries the Pontiff, “ without uni¬ 
formity in the primary bases of religion, I see nothing 
but disturbance in the social intercourse of man. I am 
convinced too that a visible point of union is necessary ; 
and that that point can only be found in Rome. If looked 
for elsew'here, as the Protestant nations persist in doing, 
schism begets schism, and new religious Pythons are 


HOR^; 


*266 

daily engendered, and raise their horrid crests from the 
slime of controversy. Look at England ; look rather at 
Ireland—the natives call it God’s own country; for my 
part I see in it nothing but Satan’s country; and so 
there is every chance of its remaining, till the British 
isles coalesce in opinion, and see, as they heretofore did, 
the chief of Catholicism in the legitimate descendants 
of St. Peter. God knows alone how this fearful schism 
will end; that unfortunate schism, begun by your eighth 
Henry, whose ghost stalks nightly through your isles, 
muttering the horrible text, ‘ I came, not to bring peace, 
but a sword amongst you.’ God grant, however, that 
the late acts of my Council of Lateran may tend to 
diminish those heart-burnings, and make Ireland worth 
living in. I see one good symptom. So many hun¬ 
dreds of British travellers have, since the death of 
Napoleon, visited Rome, and meditated on its spiritual 
and political positions, that the thinking part of them 
carry back hearts by no means so ardent in veneration 
for the eternity of the sanctity of their divine eighth 
Henry. Every thing shows that this feeling is daily 
gaining ground in the British isles. In vain do our ene¬ 
mies assert, that the popedom is established on a similar 
principle ; for, let the Protestants call me, my Lord, as 
bad, or even worse than Alexander VI., still I am here 
only for a short time ; I should be only a bad exception 


ROMANCE. 


267 


to a good principle. What is it that makes England so 
hostile to the old religion, which she knows she owes to 
Rome ? I see two causes; first, the unreasonable at- 
tachment to the sanctity of the eighth Henry, or his 
vicegerents upon earth ; secondly, the filthy machina¬ 
tions of low and intriguing Catholics, against whom I 

set my face, to the full as irreconcileably as to the first. 

% 

If a low-born Catholic, looking only to his purse, goes 
among you, and tells several nuns that they will certainly 
be saved by rubbing their noses against an old bone of 
Francis of Assisi, or Rosa of Viterbo, or Thomas of 
Canterbury ; it is immediately trumpeted to be under 
my authority, though I am as hostile to such supersti¬ 
tions, as Martin Luther himself. What would you 
think of me, if I were to look upon your Lord Chancel¬ 
lor as responsible not only for every futile speech that 
may be uttered in your house, but for every inept pro¬ 
posal broached by your newspaper writers, and your 
alehouse politicians ? An absurd prejudice is prevalent 
in England, that Catholicism and national liberty are 
incompatible. Did not your House of Commons origi¬ 
nate with Henry III., who was a Catholic ? Did any 
Cardinals interpose at that period, or any pope, to put 
down your nascent House of Commons? It is true 
that Innocent, who ought rather to be called Nocent , 
played a vile game at the establishment of your Magna 


268 


HORiE 


Charta. Yet even in this point, lie was, in spite of 
himself, of use ; for, had the King and Innocent pulled 
uniformly well together, they, aided by the Church, 
would have been so strong, that the barons could never 
have had influence enough to establish your Magna 
Charta. I am ready to allow T , that many vile Catholics 
have been panders to despotism, and that some of my 
predecessors, who fomented the Guelph and Ghibeline 
factions, often abused their sacred ministry, by flattering 
the most powerful despot. But those times are long 
since gone by ; an increased and daily increasing intel¬ 
ligence in your country, would completely baffle all in¬ 
sidious attempts that might be made by any fomenters of 
discord, or partisans of depotism, lurking under an eccle¬ 
siastical gown, were your nation wise enough to return 
to the religion of its ancestors, and re-embrace that 
veneration for the legitimate descendants of Saint Peter, 
which she cherished from the days of Augustine to 
those of the eighth Henry. You, my Lord, who have 
studied the history of the lamentable schism in all its 
bearings, must, I think, be aware, that though faults are 
manifest on both sides, the primary visible font of the 
living waters of religion always remains at Rome. That 
they have been sadly disturbed, and mudded in their 
course, I am ready to allow. Still, nevertheless, here 
they always are. Here is the matrix of the religious 


ROMANS. 


269 


ore, though, God knows, it be encrusted with dross. To 
waive all arguments on the spiritual side, so often sifted 
and to blit little purpose, what, I ask, has England 
gained, with respect to temporal interests, since the date 
of the grand schism ? What she has gained has been, 
and is, the alienation of three-fourths of the hearts of the 
Irish nation; mints of money spent, to keep that island 
in subjection ; methodistical and Calvinistical vampires 
fluttering with their dark wings over half the churches; 
a general gloom, in your islands, resulting, in great part, 
from the funereal monotony of the worship ; expensive 
and murderous wars, frequently protracted to the verge 
of ruin, owing to the impossibility of your sovereigns 
forming connexions by marriage with Catholic families, 
which, had it been in their power, though it might not 
have prevented, would at least have shortened the dura¬ 
tion of a full half of the wars wherein you have been 
engaged, since the days of my predecessor, Leo X. 
Your position completely verifies the line of Virgil; 
you are 


Penitus toto divisi orbe Britanni. 

The perpetual combats between your Whigs and Tories 
can hardly present any thing interesting to the philoso¬ 
phical politician. You seem to me to have a good deal 


270 


HORiE 


of the fever and irritation that prevailed in ancient 
Rome, without much positive grandeur in compensation. 
And how can it be otherwise, with the inviolable eccle¬ 
siastical supremacy of your eighth Henry ? The beauty 
of our religion, if it be not abused, which alas ! it too 
often has been, and is, consists in its admitting equally 
of every form of government, whether republican, mixed, 
or despotic. Several of your own countvymen, firm 
Protestants, have often acknowledged that the Catholic 
families of England especially, are as sincere patriots as 
any among you; and the great majority of them stand 
in good repute for their probity. If we contemplate the 
religion in America, have any Catholics been suspected 
or accused of wishing to destroy the elective principle so 
generally established in that union ? I know that the 
ground I tread is very delicate ; for if the priesthood be 
too multiplied, which it is the business of every en¬ 
lightened state to prevent, a certain depression takes 
place in the spirits of the people, which might eventually 
endanger liberty. The object of my pontificate is, to 
allow as much liberty to Rome, as is consistent with her 
character of being the special domicile of the Church. 
Some slight sacrifices must be made by the people, to 
preserve this character, which has been her prerogative 
since the days of St. Peter. But even after making 
these sacrifices, the Roman people, I am sure, during 


ROMANCE. *27 J 

my pontificate, enjoy as much positive liberty as you, 
without having their spirits maddened by gloomy 
Calvinists, methodists, baptists, and id genus omne. 
All my endeavours have been, and are, to simplify and 
purify the sacred pivot of Christianity; which, by pre¬ 
senting a visible and homogeneous point of union to 
the civilized part of the world, cannot fail to be bene¬ 
ficial to man, whether contemplated in social, moral, or 
political intercourse. But you, my Lord, are of the 
religion of which I have the honour, however unworthily, 
to be the chief; consequently to you I need say nothing 
more. I leave the acts of my late Council of Lateran 
to speak for themselves.” 

A few days after, a vender of rosaries, crucifixes, and 
relics, meets him as he is walking on the terrace of the 
Vatican. Urbano, turning to his confessor, says : “ My 
dear Ambrosio, give that poor man twenty scudi ; little 
does he know that if any thing wrong be done, a prayer 
from the heart is worth a million of these baubles.” At 
another time, being at his cottage at Tivoli, he exhibits 
a different drift of feeling. For a priest of Alatri comes 
to him, and shows him a fragment of a femoral bone, 
which he assures the Pontiff belonged to the divine 
Prassedi. “ Si, Santo Padre,” he exclaims, “ e vero 
come il cielo se stesso .” A favourite spaniel happened 
to be at the Pope’s feet. “ Moro,” cries the Pontiff, 


272 


HORiE 


“ here is a bone for you to venerateand he rubs the 
spaniel’s nose twice or thrice against it. 

He now visits the works at the Pantheon, and arrives 
there just as the workmen had finished the demolition of 
the vile turrets put up by Urban VIII. He eyes with 
pleasure the new pavement, of which about a dozen 
square feet are completed. He orders Urban the Eighth’s 
fulsome inscription to be removed; neither will he 
allow any other to be substituted. 

The Pontiff is in excellent spirits this year; and gives 
two or three dinners at the Vatican. At one of thirty 
covers, a Monsieur Legerremine, a young and opulent 
banker of Marseilles, is invited. He sits eight or ten 
seats from the Pope, and thinks proper to indulge, in a 
sort of whisper, in sarcasms to his neighbour against the 
fundamental doctrines of Catholicism, taken from the 
school of Diderot. The Pontiff, very quick in ear, 
catches most of his words. He says nothing. The 
next morning he summons his confidential secretary, and 
says: “ Monsieur Legerremine may remain at Rome as 
long as he pleases; but see that he never enters the 
Vatican again. Had he confined his sarcasms to in¬ 
dulgences and relics-kissing, I should have thought 
nothing of them—but he judged proper to give a proof 
of his bet esprit , by attacking, within my hearing, 
those fundamental doctrines believed by idiots Bossuet, 


ROMANS. 


273 


Fenelon, Montesquieu, Buffon, Shakspeare, Dryden, 
Pope, and several other idiots of the same stamp, and 
whom no doubt he has registered at home in his manu¬ 
script catalogue of idiots 

Urbano is very exact in seeing that the moneys col¬ 
lected in the poor-boxes be strictly applied to their pur¬ 
poses. One Christmas, he orders that all the collections 
in the poor-boxes should be brought into the Camera 
della Torre Borgia , where he arranges a large dresser, 
thirty feet long. The contents of the boxes he com¬ 
mands to be voided in his presence, and distributed 
into three or four hundred prizes, the least of which is 
one scudo , the second two, and the last three scudi. 
Under each of the prizes, is a slip of paper with a 
number. A large frame of wood stands at the end of the 
dresser, with as many slips of paper as there are prizes, 
protruding about an inch from holes in the perpendicular 
frame. The mendicants, coming in by tens at a time, 
draw the numbers, and walk off with the prizes desig¬ 
nated by corresponding numbers, under each of the piles 
of scudi. Among them is an English Protestant, a 
Lazarus with his sores, and with scarcely a rag on his 
back. “ And who are you?” says Urbano. “ James 
Gurney, and please your Holiness.” The Pontiff 
speaking tolerable English, says: “Take your luck 
with the rest, my good fellow. You have in England, 


274 


HORjE 


your Christmas gambols, why should I not have mine ? 
Am not I a fair lottery-holder ? —all prizes—no blanks. 
But I bargain, that if hereafter we should meet in Eng¬ 
land, you will not send me to the treadmill for holding a 
lottery.” Gurney draws one of the largest prizes, which 
pleases the Pope; and he orders him to be lodged, 
doctored, and fed, in the Vatican, during his stay at 
Borne. 

An ulcer now festers on his arm, owing to the friction 
of his horse-hair cilix, which he wore the preceding 
Lent. He never urges its adoption by others, and he 
sets his face against the self-flagellating disciplinarians. 

In his earlier age he had devoted three years to theo¬ 
logical studies; and the conflicting opinions which he 
had poured into the crucible of his mind, tinge some¬ 
times his expressions with rather a disagreeable causti¬ 
city ; as was the case in his interview with Lord Kelater, 
who was accompanied by a stripling Protestant cousin. 
Urbano showed them both his new oratory; and on 
reaching the door, he patted the stripling’s cheek with 
the back of his left hand, saying: “ Don’t tell mamma, 

when you get home, that you saw me worshipping this 
canvas, these colours, this ivory, this marble.” 

Being at his cottage at Tivoli, and in one of his 
humorous moods, he sends for his English cook, Henry 
Wolsey, who had given him for dinner roast beef and 


ROMAN M. 


275 


Roman artichokes. “ Well, Henry,” he says, “ do not 
the two dishes you have served me go well together ? 
They both give strength. The gardener that cultivated 
these artichokes was a good fellow. But supposing 
these artichokes had been cultivated by Henry the 
Eighth’s Gardiner, would they not have choked me, my 
brave Henry ? These have good and palatable pulp ; 
his had nothing but choke.” He seasons his joke with 
giving a glass of porter to Henry, which he had just 
received from the house of Messrs. Barclay and Co. in 
London. 

A few days after, seven individuals, on each of whom 
he had bestowed preferment, come to express their 

«r 

gratitude ; and falling at his feet, servilely kiss, in the 
old fashion, his great toe: he dismisses them with a 
Tiberius-frown, exclaiming: “ O homines ad servitutem 
paratos /” 

He now dines on New Year’s day in the hall nearly 
finished, at the Quirinal college. He passes with one 
of the professors into a vast apartment, destined for the 
new library. “ I hope your funds,” he says, “ will be 
sufficient to enable you to devote annually three hundred 
scudi to the purchase of the best works on the physical 
and mathematical sciences, that may appear from time 
to time in the different European capitals.” He surveys 
the rooms for the professors and students; and walking 


276 


hora: 


with one of the first in the garden, he exclaims: “ As 
far as the first ilex hedge, you will have a good space 
for the giuoco di pallo, and other manly games for the 
students; the space on the other side shall be the new 
botanic garden ; which I hope to see in two or three years 
as scientifically arranged as if Linnaeus had supervised it. 
You see I have a college here ready built. I do not 
want to wring money from the Roman people to add 
another vast pile to a city which is already overbuilt. 
I do not borrow any of my learning from the Sisto or 
Braschi dictionaries 

He visits the kitchen, and seeing therein a merry¬ 
faced greasy cook, slipping at the same time into his 
hand a few scadi , he says, laughing. “ Ah, you’ll have 
hot work now ! What will you do if there be a dearth 
of meat in Rome, to dish up on festivals ? n Taking by 
the arm the Cardinal di San Matteo , a man of remark¬ 
able elegance and refinement, he exclaims: “ I suppose 
you’ll turn him into an omelette aux fines herbes ,” 
laughing louder. “ And what will you do with him ?” 
pointing to the Cardinal of Sanf Andrea della Valle , a 
man of skin and bone, “ he’ll make a good soup-meagre.” 
Laying hold of the good-natured Cardinal di San Luca , 
homo vastus and of FalstafF-corpulency, he says, “ Even 
his merry thought will furnish a rich sauce for the 
college, for a whole week,” shaking his ribs with laughter 


ROMANCE. 


277 


“ You’ll put me on a gridiron next, and serve me up 
with St. Lawrence’s sauce ; and this, I suppose, your 
urbanity will call an Urbano-fritturar And so he goes 
on in playful mood, seria cum jocis permiscens, till the 
whole kitchen resounds with such peals of laughter, 
that they echo from the Quirinal to the Palatine hills. 

Early in the following year, he summons several of 
the professors lately appointed, together with the new 
President of the College, to the Camera dei Fasti, and 
says ; “ I am not yet quite settled as to the mode of 

organizing the new Quirinal College; but I am of 

• 

opinion that it should be wholly a college of laics. 
Considering the actual population of the city, and her 
resources, perhaps if one president, and twelve associates 
form its directing body, the number will be found ample. 
All these will have apartments in the college. One of 
the senior associates will be the vice-president. The 
vacancies among these associates that may occur from 
time to time, should be replenished by election ; that 
election generally falling on some student, who, having 
proved himself a man of merit, has few or no means to 
work his way otherwise in the world. With regard to 
the students who may enter the college, 1 apprehend it 
will be well, not to admit them before the age of seven¬ 
teen years. At that age, we may fairly presume, that 
they will be grounded in arithmetic, a little geometry, 


278 


H0RJ2 


and perhaps in the rudiments of one or two languages 
besides their own. At the end of three years, degrees 
will be conferred by examination of their proficiency in 
the mathematics and natural philosophy. Examination 
in these alone, should confer the degrees. I think of 
adopting much the same mode of organization for the 
venerable college of La Sapienza; which will be wholly 
governed by ecclesiastics, but with this important dif¬ 
ference, that the studies therein will be entirely turned 
to the theology and moral philosophy ; and the degrees 
will be conferred by examinations in those studies alone. 
A professor there shall be appointed to expound the phi¬ 
losophy of Plato and Aristotle. With regard to the 
Collegio Romano its organization should, I think, be 
partly ecclesiastical, and partly laical. Its objects will 
be the studies of ancient and modem languages, and the 
various branches of the belles-lettres; and degrees there 
will be conferred by examination in those studies alone. 
With regard to the salaries of the professors, associates, 
and presidents, I have good reason for believing that the 
funds formerly appropriated to the churches, which l 
have lately dismantled, together with some half dozen 
destroyed monasteries, will furnish very handsome sti¬ 
pends for each. A certain remuneration should also be 
paid by at least, the wealthier students, to those who 
may deliver lectures. These three colleges will form 


ROMANCE*. 


27R 


the new Universitd Romania; ample will it be for the 
city, with even double the actual population; and 
nothing will be wanting to shed around it due lustre, 
but the observance of discipline on your parts, and of 
industry on those of the students.” With these words, 
he dismisses the assembly. 

Urbano is not frequent in his acts of public devotion; 
but when he does perform them, he uniformly proves an 
earnest sense of piety, especially in the Holy week. His 
confessor has more than once found him in his oratory 
hung with black, the eve before Good Friday, wholly 
absorbed in religious meditations, and with his eyes 
moistened with tears.—He has another at Castel Gan- 
dolfo, in which is an Ecce homo , crowned with thorns, a 
splendid effort of Yandyck ; also a large Stabat Mater 
Dolorosa , by Spagnoletto, in which the Virgin, with 
blood-shot eye-lids, is contemplating the great sacrifice. 
Once or twice, during Lent, he shuts himself up therein; 
while half a dozen voices, in an adjoining apartment, 
separated by a thin partition, sound the celebrated 
Stabat of Pergolesi. So impressive is the harmony of 
the voices gradually swelling and dying away, that the 
united effect of the picture and music would almost 
convert a cannibal of Owhyhee. 

He sends for the leader of the choir of St. Peter’s, 
who meets him close to the statue of Constantine, and 


280 


HOKiE 


says to liim : “ Tell Bronzi the bell-caster, T intend to 
bring his muscles into play. He is getting paralytic 
from not using his arms. I purpose to have a new 
complete octave of bells at St. Peter’s. The largest 
shall be a quarter of an octave deeper than the actual 
largest. For most days the usual cariglione shall re¬ 
main. But I mean to adopt the simple descent of the 
gamut, to be rung as in England, on the benediction 
day, and perhaps on one or two other festivals; before 
the opening, and at the close of the service. Never let 
me hear again in the court of the Basilica, the mixture 
of music and bell-ringing at the same time. The two 
sounds neutralize each other, and make a horrible dis¬ 
sonance.” Bronzi approaches the Pontiff, who, touching 
his forehead with his little finger, says : “ Bronzi, I am 
going to give you a feather to play with ; a soap-lather 
bubble to blow from your tobacco-pipe to one of St. 
Peter’s spires; a silky gossamer to weave with your 
little fingers.” This he says in a soft whisper ; then he 
adds with a stentorian roar: “ Conflandum est immane 
tin tinnabulum, yrcindisono clang ore, boans bombis ranci- 
sonis omnium taurorum Romanorum” 

The next summer, he summons two or three of the 
principal merchants of Citta Vecchia, as many from 
Bologna, as many from Sinigaglia, and Ancona, to his 
summer retreat of Castel Giandolfo, and interrogates 


ROMANCE. 


281 


them respecting the state of commerce in those cities : 
whether trade has visibly improved since the introduc¬ 
tion of steam into the Adriatic ? how many silk looms 
are at work ? what is the daily pay of the manufacturers ? 
and whether any new and productive source of trade has 
lately been discovered ? 

He visits shortly after the prisons, with the Cardinal 
di San Matleo. “ I can hope to do but little herein, as 
yet;” says he, “nevertheless, as soon as the new tri¬ 
bunals shall have acquired form and consistency, I hope 
to lend a new force to the lines of Juvenal: 

Felices proavorum atavos, felicia dicas 
Saecula, quae quondam sub regibus atque tribunis 
Viderunt uno contentam carcere Romam! 

He summons ten or a dozen of the schoolmasters of 
the village in the environs of Rome, charging them to 
expand the minds of their pupils, with a little more 
classic literature than “ Ave Sancta Petronilla / Ave 
Sancte Carole Borromcee /” He tells them to send to 
the Vatican biennially, at Christmas, each a list of those 
students who may promise genius in any particular 
branch of study. “ If you fail to do this,” he adds, 
laughing, “ 1 will treat you all just as Camillus did the 
pedagogue of Faleri;—go and find how J,hat was in 
Plutarch.” 


•282 


HORiE 


A few days after, he goes to the hospital of San 
Giovanni Laterano, drawn thither by four high-blooded 
horses, a present from the oldest Catholic family in 
England. “ These institutions,” cries he to the Cardinal 
di San Matteo , “ have never been rightly understood, 
piled, as they often are, four or five stories high; and 
uselessly adorned with architecture. They should never 
be above one story high; neither need the rooms be very 
lofty. The dozen cottages which I have lately erected 
near Tivoli, for the reception of the malaria patients, 
will, I hope, furnish a model for any future hospital that 
may be built, supposing Rome to have double her actual 
population. For none but a coxcomb would think of 
building at present another hospital in the city.” 

Urbano, in his charities, is often disposed to say to 
any applicant: “ Che ha fatto ?” He, nevertheless, 
frequently opens his purse; and he has been known to 
house in the Vatican, upwards of seventy persons in 
distressed condition; giving them bed, board, and fuel; 
among them, sometimes poor artists from Germany, and 
the north of Europe, of whatsoever religious persuasion. 

He is always pleased at seeing parties of pleasure 
going on Sunday evenings, and other festivals, to Tivoli, 
Frascati, and Albano; and encourages the mirth and fun 
of the carnival. But if he meets riotous people during 
Lent, and the Holy week especially, he eyes them 


ROMANCE. 


283 


superciliis obductis. In spile of this, no narrow bigotry 
obfuscates the spirit of Urbano. He sends for the ma¬ 
gistrates of Frascati, and tells them it is his intention to 
institute in that village an annual and gay fair, to be 
held for two days, in the third week of every revolving 
July. 

A circumstance now occurs, in which I know not 
whether Urbano be reprehensible or admirable. One 
Francesco Maroni, a great musical genius, but in mise¬ 
rable poverty, blind in one eye, and liable from his birth 
to epileptic fits, is defrauded of a splendid musical ma¬ 
nuscript, his own composition, by one Filoni, of Milan, 
a man of considerable property, who publishes it as his 
own, and gets universally caressed in that city, as a 
second Mozart; though he knows but little more than 
his gamut. The Pontiff, aware of his roguery, writes to 
Filoni, and says, he wishes to see him at Rome, to give 
him a proof of his esteem for so brilliant a composition. 
Filoni arrives at Rome. The Pope having appointed a 
day of reception, stations three herculean fellows, from 
the Apennines, in a retired apartment. Filoni enters, 
quasi sure of a pension of at least two hundred scudi. 
The Pontiff gives them a preconcerted wink. They lock 
the door; Filoni is stripped; he is tied to a frame, and 
receives on the back one hundred lashes, given with 
such force, that a slice of his flesh flies into the Pontiff’s 


284 


HORiE 


face; and the culprit’s back, cut into deep furrows, re¬ 
quires a two months’ surgical treatment. The Pope, on 
his egress, is met on the staircase by the Cardinal of 
Araceli, who says to him : u Santo Padre , there is blood 
upon thy face!” “ None at all, none at all,” answers 

the Pope; “ I have only been drawing a bottle of claret, 
to me of excellent bouquet.” These three fellows from 
the Apennines, he nick-names, his three pet furies; and 
he keeps them, highly paid and well lodged, in the 
Vatican. Another case shortly occurs, in which he 
brings their energies into play. One Teresa Morini, of 
Terni, an orphan, is sole heiress of estates in that neigh¬ 
bourhood, to the amount of two thousand seven hundred 
scudi per annum. She has also capital to the amount 
of twelve thousand scudi , in the bank of Naples. Gio¬ 
vanni Fredoni, and Manfredo Torchi, distantly related 
to her, were named her guardians, at the dying request 
of an aged mother, dotingly fond of Teresa. Fredoni 
and Torchi, though both in very good circumstances, 
combine to swindle Teresa out of her property; and 
after much thought on the subject, come to the deter¬ 
mination of so distempering by degrees her mind, as to 
upset it, which would not take long, especially as the 
girl, though by no means imbecile, was far from being 
strong-minded. Speaking to her kindly at first, they by 
degrees insinuate reports to her disadvantage; which 


ROMANS. 


285 


she does not take to heart, till she hears a man in the 
street, suborned by Fredoni, cry : Qui dimora quella — 
di Teresa. Many other irritating imputations are one 
after another applied to her feelings; and one night, 
Torchi, dressed in a horrible and diabolic mask, rubbed 
with phosphorus, enters with Fredoni, her bed-room, at 
night, and hangs over her, both groaning dismally. 
Teresa, awaking, falls into violent hysterics; her reason 
leaves her; a slow fever ensues, and she dies. They 
both follow her funeral, shedding crocodile’s tears; and 
Fredoni, the heir at law, succeeds immediately to her 
property. But the crime gets w r ind, through a female 
servant, who Fredoni judged to be too stupid to note 
their proceedings; and the crime is additionally proved, 
by the strong circumstantial evidence of another servant, 
whose room was separated by a thin partition, hearing 
frequently Fredoni in his dreams exclaim: “ Teresa, 
aw'ay, aw r ay! I killed thee ! O glare not so horribly !” 
The Pontiff having been informed of the crime, cor¬ 
roborated by an immense accumulation of circumstantial 
evidence, all of which he had scanned, with the aid of 
three distinguished lawyers, says to his chamberlain: 
“ I wonder why Signori Fredoni and Torchi do not 
come to the Vatican, to receive their new titles of 
Onorabile .” They go thither, splendidly dressed, and 
in a magnificent equipage. They stare at the long and 


286 * 


HORiE 


narrow passages leading to the papal chamber; they 
stare more at seeing in the room a large wooden frame, 
which, however, they imagine to be a stand for an effigy 
of the Madonna. They both fall down and kiss the 
Pope’s toe. The Pontiff coughs. The three pet furies 
appear; who gag and pinion Fredoni and Torchi. Tied 
to the frame, they each receive three hundred lashes, 
dealt with such force, that their dorsal vertebrae appear 
bare; and their cries are stifled by the Pope repeatedly 
exclaiming: “ Piu forte , Garzoni , sempre piu forte /” 

A week or two after these horrible events, which oc¬ 
curred before the organization of the tribunals, Urbano 
visits, with considerable pomp, Santa Maria Maggiore , 
drawn thither by four high-blooded English horses. He 
expresses himself pleased with the alterations. All the 
smoky lamps that burned before the Madonnas in frames, 
together with the Madonnas themselves, are removed. 
All the milliners’ flowers, in gingerbread stands, have 
also disappeared. All the priests appear in plain white 
surplices; on the altar are four superb silver candlesticks, 
with their large wax tapers, each a symbol of each of 
the Gospels. Between them is a crucifix; the figure of 
ivory, the cross of ebony. Over them is the celebrated 
Madonna di Foligno, by Raphael, no longer to be 
smeared with lamp-black. 

On quitting the church, he is accosted by a female 


ROMANCE. 


•287 


with dishevelled hair, and eyes starting from their sock¬ 
ets: “ Alii, mciladetto Pontefice, brutto immondezzajo 
d'inferno in corpo umano ,” she vociferates, falling down, 
foaming at the mouth, and digging her nails in the earth : 

“ Ta mi hai rnbato la Santissima Madonna dalla mia 
porta....ed ecco i ladroni mi spogliano di tutto....Lo stesso 
giorno , ciurma del Vaticano; lo stesso giorno, io dico....” 

“ Do see,” says the Pontiff, “ that the poor woman be 
taken proper care of,” ordering her at the same time a 
purse, completely covering her loss. But this is the 
only disagreeable circumstance that results from the 
total removal of those Madonnas in their frames, from 
the corners of the streets, with their vile lanterns, and 
incensed beneath by canine excrement. Shortly after, 
he summons three or four of the ladies, who direct as 
many of the schools for the young Roman misses, and 
says to them: “ Understand, good ladies, that since 
Rome is annually visited by malaria, I propose to make 
you a present of a palazzo, at or near Palestrina, where 
the air is wholesome, during the months that it is pesti¬ 
lential in Rome. Thither you will do well to remove, 
with your fair disciples, from May to the beginning of 
October. “ Non son io un galantuomo di Papa ?” he 
adds smiling, at the same time opening the door of the 
Camera del Pavone , where he had received the ladies, 
and bowing to them repeatedly, with an ultra Chester¬ 
field politeness. 


288 


HOR^ 


On the day formerly dedicated to Saint Louis, now no 
longer a saint, a faint murmur is heard at the end of 
Bernini’s colonnade, which gradually swells into the 
words, VAmbasciatore di Francia. It is echoed from 
the statue of Constantine, to the entrance of the Camera 
dei Fasci. The Pontiff receives him with great civility. 
Fifty sheets would be required to expound their con¬ 
ference, which lasts six hours. It is, however, whispered 
in Rome, without any thing certain being hazarded, that 
the thinking mass of the French nation acquiesces to 
the dispositions of the Council of Lateran; and that the 
desecration of all the saints, with the important excep¬ 
tions as before stated, is rapidly gaining ground; and 
that none will be hereafter recognised as sanctified, save 
the Holy Trinity, the Holy Ghost, our Saviour, the 
Virgin, the twelve Apostles, John the Baptist, and the 
Evangelists; and that no church or chapel should, for 
the future, be dedicated but to one or other of those. 

Spring now returning, he visits his cottage at Tivoli; 
and being most seriously disposed, he is accompanied 
thither by three profound theological disputants, who 
discuss with him important points of controversy. At 
one of these colloquies, he panegyrizes highly the Varia¬ 
tions des eglises Protesiantes of Bossuet, calling it a 
splendid effort of the human understanding. He passes, 
too, no light encomiums on the G&nie du Christianisme 


ROMANS. 


289 


of Chateaubriand; saying that he has thereby strewed 
with flowers a path of study, before deemed pretty uni¬ 
versally dry and repulsive. 

Having returned to the Vatican, called by important 
business, he walks one evening towards San Paolo fuori 
le mura. Near the church he is accosted by a friar, 
whose face is pallid with anger. With both his arms 
upraised, he addresses the Pontiff thus: “ Tu sei la 
maledizione di Roma. Distruttore delle settanta Cliiese , 
svanisci dai miei occhj! Tu sei Papa Satan , Papa 
Satan , aleppe /” And having said these words, runs 
furiously away, uttering a shrill howl. The Cardinal of 
Santf Andrea della Valle was walking with the Pope. 
The latter says to him: “ This poor fellow cannot com¬ 
prehend that man here below is a mixed being; that if 
you spiritualize his nature too much, you plant a sort of 
death in his existence here. Now this was much the 
condition of Rome, before I decreed a sentence of de¬ 
struction for those churches, which would be even 
supernumerary with double the population of the city. 
The beneficial effect of this, the greatest act of my pon¬ 
tificate, cannot yet be appreciated. But wait a few 
years, and you shall see.” 

The Pope now frequently, in his drives, visits the 
workmen engaged in the demolition of the condemned 
churches; and, accompanied by his purse-bearer, he 


290 


HORvE 


scatters four or five hundred pauls among them. Several 
wealthy foreigners resident in Rome, assist them also 
with a subscription-purse of a few hundred scudi , which 
is divided, from time to time, in fractions among them. 
Once, as he witnesses the crumbling down of a roof, in 
which were two or three rather superior frescos, he over¬ 
hears an artist muttering to another: u II nostro Papa a 
tutta la barbaritd dei Goti e dei Barbarini uniti His 
companion replies: “ Cospetto! e il Demetrio Poliorcetes 
delle Chiese /” 

A certain diminution, but not general, of the monastic 
establishments, occupies Urbano next; he generally dis¬ 
approves of them in cities, observing, “ The country is 
the best place for these institutions. God made the 
country, and man made the town. Neither will I have 
them so numerous as hitherto.” He decrees, that so 
much of their revenues should be left them, as to supply 
them well with the necessaries of life, and not much 
more; at least, for those orders that profess, like the 
Capuchins, poverty. He says: “ Though prima facie 
there be something sublime in the institution of La 
Trappe, it is too much so, for a world like ours, where 
all of us ought to be at least of some use, one to another. 
Now a complete Trappist might as well no longer exist.” 
The superfluous wealth of some of these suppressed 
establishments finds its way into the pontifical ex- 


ROMANS. 29] 

chequer; unjustly, if given to pamper nepotism, like the 
Borghesi and Braschi; but very justly, if spent as 
Urbano provides that it should be. 

He now orders the inscription on the frise of St. Peter’s 
to be removed, observing to the Cardinal of Araceli : 
“ St. Peter’s was the work of seventeen pontiffs ; Borg- 
hese then had no right to assume the glory of the build¬ 
ing to himself. He acted like a tailor, who, having only 
put the side-buttons to a coat, would tell you: ‘ Sir, the 
whole coat was my making.’ I intend to substitute the 
words : 


BEATO. PETRO. APOSTOLO. 

PONTIFICES. ROMANI.” 

Walking one day with the Cardinal delle Isole Bri- 
tanniche , in the Camera delV Incendio del Borgo, he 
says : “ Are there good grounds, Cardinal, for believing 
that the great fire of London was occasioned by the 
malignity of some worthless Catholics?” “ You know, 
Santo Padre” answers the Cardinal, “ that it is so re¬ 
corded on the monument of the catastrophe in London.” 
Retorts the Pontiff: “ O then, we are bound to believe 
implicitly the ipsa dico of the column, as infallible as 
all the popes, are we ?”—laughing ironically. 

At Castel Gandolfo, he is closeted with Ambrosio 
Pitrucci, who submits to his inspection several medals, 


i 


292 


IIO R JE 


destined to furnish the archetypes of the new coinage. 
“ Pitrucci,” he says, “ I think one gold coin, the value 
of two scudi and a half, will be sufficient. The old scudi 
shall be melted down, and assume a more portable shape. 
They shall bear the same inscriptions as heretofore. But 
their silver fractions shall be called Petrini , and not 
Paoli, as now. The copper coins should be something 
smaller than the present.” He slips into the medalist’s 
hand a slip of paper, with the following schedule : 

One Petro d’oro = 2\ scudi. 

One scudo. = 10 petrini. 

One petrino .... = 10 baiocchi. 

“ Such is the monetary scale I think advisable to 
adopt.” 

The Cardinals’ vestures he scarcely alters; but he 
orders most of the old pontifical vestments to be de¬ 
stroyed, reserving only a few to which interesting recol¬ 
lections may be attached. When he officiates on fast 
days, he appears in a plain black bombazine surplice, 
but little differing from the English; when on festivals, 
in a surplice of very fine white linen, over which is 
thrown the red scarf, embroidered with the tiaras and 
keys. On the day of the benediction, he always wears 
the annulus piscaloris. He performs that function 
almost as well as Braschi. 

The singing boys he also clothes in fine white linen 



ROMANCE. 


293 


vestures, with a plain red sash rouud their waists, leaving 
their finely combed hair to flow in glossy ringlets behind, 
reminding the spectator of Guido’s or Domenichino’s 
cherubs. No music he admits on fast-davs, with the 
exception of the Miserere , in the Holy week; neither 
does he approve, though he does not interdict, any other 
instruments, but the organ on festivals, saying: “ I do 
not want an opera in a church.” In the ensuing spring, 
he makes an excursion into the Apennines, accompanied 
by the librarian of the Vatican, Maggioranti. He visits 
his birth-place, Arpino, and attends an examination of 
the scholars in a school of that city. He says to Mag- 
giorauti, “ I always loved the city of Arpino; I intend 
to let any students in law, who may be natives of this 
town, have apartments in the new legal college at Rome 
gratis.” He visits the fine cascades of the Liris and 
Fibrenus; and the two islands formed by these rivers, 
and frequented formerly by Cicero and his friends. 
Laughing, he says : “ Hoes not Arpino belong of right 
to Rome ? Ho you not think the court of Naples would 
let me have it, if I granted indulgences for all crimes 
and sins, for one hundred years; if I sent it a tooth of 
Santa Petronilla, a jaw-bone of Sant’ Asinario, and a 
little toe of San Carlo Borromeo, and excused, for ever, 
the annual tribute of a white palfrey ?” He leaves a 
purse of five hundred scudi , to be distributed among 


294 


HO RTF, 


those scholars, in prizes, who may have the most distin¬ 
guished themselves. “ By the by, Maggioranti, I intend 
to demolish that absurd fountain by Bernini, at the foot 
of Trinitci clel Monte , and to place in its room, two 
marble figures; one a personification of the Liris; the 
other, of the Fibrenus, discharging from their urns copi¬ 
ous waters into a new basin. Fail not to remind me of 
this.” He alludes, on the journey, to the late changes 
he has introduced in the vestures of the priests. “ My 
adoption,” he says, “ of black for fasts and white for 
feasts, is grounded on the general belief, that one is 
serious, the other enlivening. Who but a theatrical 
coxcomb would wish to attire the priest officiating at 
the altar, in silk and gold glitter ? This invention, I am 
aware, came from the east; but it must have originated 
rather from a theatrical, than a religious mind.” 

Referring to the usage of lamps in churches, he says 
to Maggioranti: “ Lights of all kind are useless, unless 
they speak symbolically to the eyes. The hundreds of 
paltry and smoky lamps, that I found in the churches, 
at the beginning of my pontificate, appear to me to have 
been the result of the dreams of old women on their 
death-beds. Braschi provided to have lights after his 
death, burning perpetually round his divine image. 
These, you see, I have removed, as well as the statue 
of the divine man. But I would not remove, on any 


ROMANCE. 


•295 


account, the monument of Alexander VI. in the chapel 
underneath. It shall stand, Maggioranti, as an useful 
memento to any of my successors, who may be tempted 
to lay claim to absolute infallibility .” 

The Pontiff and Maggioranti regain the Vatican; and 
a few days after he summons the Cardinal di San Gio¬ 
vanni Laterano into his presence, who had for some 
time disgraced his station by an irregular life. “ You 
thought,” he says, “ I did not see you going up and 
down the Corso, in a shut up carriage, last Thursday, 
with Giulia Fazzoletti. Come, come, Cardinal, the hey- 
dey of your blood being long over, it is high time for 
you to give up these pranks. If you cannot find out the 
station you fill, you shall discover it from me, by being 
unfrocked. And now, if you please, you may tell the 
world, what a narrow-minded bigot I am.” The Car¬ 
dinal retires, the colour stinging his cheeks like a hornet. 

In the following week, a transalpine Baron arrives in 
Rome. He begs the honour of an introduction to the 
Pontiff, which is granted. He goes so covered with 
stars, that scarcely a patch of two inches of the cloth of 
his coat is visible. After a few minutes of common talk, 
the Pope asks him rather drily: “ Pray, Baron, may I 
ask, what you have done to merit stars number two, 
number three, and number five ?” The Baron, highly 
incensed, rushes to the door, and bangs it in the Pontiffs 


296 


HORiE 


/ 


face. Of course he asks for his passport immediately ; 
and on passing the Ponte Molle , says the next morning 
to a fellow traveller: “ This is the way with all these 
upstarts. This low-bred priest has not even common 
decency of manners. Because he wears the tiara, he 
thinks himself justified in offering the greatest insult 
that can be offered to a man of probity and honour.” 

The Pope, perceiving still in the city some lurking 
seeds of discontent, in consequence of the destruction of 
the old aristocracy, devises the following expedient to 
eradicate them. He orders two or three Polichinel 
boxes to perambulate the streets, in which Punch is 
made to say to a puppet covered with stars : “ E chi sei 
tu ?” i( Non sai , birbante, die io sono Villustrissimo 
Principe di Grandaltaterra , dal decimoterzo secolo ,” 
retorts the puppet. Punch thwacks him well about the 
shoulders and head, saying a hundred comical things, 
too long to record here. 

A short time afterwards, three friars from the monas- 
try of the Theban Onuphrio, who had enjoyed a snug 
godship, for some eight or ten centuries, beg earnestly 
an interview with the Pope, to remonstrate with him on 
the unholiness of the proposed adoption of the English 
Litany in the Roman service. The Pope asks them, 
drily : “ Good friends, have you read and digested that 
Litany ?” “ We would not pollute our souls, Santo 


ROMANS. 


297 


Padre , with such a heresy,” is their simultaneous reply. 
“ Pray open the door to these good men,” says Urbano 
to his chamberlain, “ who have come to treat me with 
commentaries on what, by their own avowal, they have 
never read.” 

Urbano shows as good discrimination between the 
shades of guilt, as if he had devoted some years to the 
study of casuistry, proved in the two following cases. 
One Melchior Ardenti, a priest of forty years old, he 
finds, from unquestionable authority, abuses his sacred 
function of confessor, by gestures and words too improper 
to be stated, towards females who approach the confes¬ 
sional box. The Pontiff sends for him, and reproaches 
him with such a concentrated power of indignation, that 
Ardenti, puny both in body and soul, takes to his bed, 
and is found dead the next morning, literally of fright. 
The other case was that of Giovanni Maldito, a young 
priest of Viterbo, who was found carousing at Frascati, 
and revelling with a common woman. Urbano, after 
reproaching him with much bitterness, says: “ I’ll think 
no more of it; but I would advise you, for your own 
sake, and for mine, never to be guilty of a similar 
offence.” 

In two brigand cases, he proves also a good discrimi¬ 
nation. A party of five are seized by his troops, who 
only fired over a carriage, and having robbed the 


298 


HO Rift 


passengers of their money, let them go without further 
injury. He consigns them to work in the gallies for 
three years. But another party of four are seized, 
who, after robbing the passengers, carry them into the 
mountains, strip them naked, rub their faces against the 
road : and having violated a young lady, tie her in 
nudity to a tree, where she dies. “ By the Holy 
Virgin,” says Urbano, “ I will neither eat, drink, or 
sleep till justice be satisfied.” The criminals are ar¬ 
raigned, tried, and condemned with full proofs; and 
shortly after they swing from a gibbet thirty feet high, 
on the Monte Testaccio. In vain the pious Cardinal di 
San Bartolomeo pleads for the mitigation of the punish¬ 
ment. The only reply he gets from the Pope, is a loud 
repetition of this verse of Virgil : 

Mens immota manet ; lacrymae volvuntur inanes. 

And all this is done in the short interval of nine hours. 
The executioners, their hands reeking with blood, dine 
afterwards with the Pontiff, who preserves at dinner an 
unagitated demeanour. 

A few days after this execution, he give a tete-a-tete 
dinner to Francois Minot, distantly related to the Pontiff 
on his mother’s side, and now a wealthy Abbe of Nismes. 
A cloud of illish humour having flitted across his mind, 


ROMANCE. 


299 


he speaks but little during dinner. But at the serving 
up of coffee, he says: "Well, Francois, the time-piece 
of your age having some time struck forty-five, I sup¬ 
pose you no longer keep that English girl, you got from 
Lancashire some years ago.” " Vo us pensez bien que 
toutes ces sottises-ld sont oubli&es, Saint Pere; je V ai 
chasse , il y a long temps.” a And how much did 3 r ou 
give at parting from her? Three thousand scudi at 
least, I presume, for you have four thousand per annum.” 
Not a word from Minot in reply. “ How many then ? 
One thousand ? Five hundred ? One hundred, at least? 
Come, come, out with it.” Minot, a man of fine manners, 
remains mute ; then rising from his seat, he bows with 
the utmost politeness, and retires, not without muttering 
in the Lepanto-antechamber: “ C° est nn liomme qui 
ri* a pas une etincelle de politesse .” 

The Pope, though cordially averse to the old system 
of nepotism, pursued by nearly all his predecessors, is 
by no means forgetful of the interests of his family. He 
has a nephew, whose nest he feathers with an estate in 
the Apennines, which brings him in a clear eight 
thousand scudi per annum. And he gives to his niece, 
for her marriage portion, one hundred and fifty thousand 
scudi. But the exchequer is not charged with a baiocco 
in their favour. 

He walks with Luigi Angellari, his major-domo, one 


300 


HOR££ 


fine summer’s evening, to the remains of the temple of 
Jupiter Tonans ; and says to him : “ Luigi, I suspect you 
are a little touched with Graccliomania; not that I 
mean to class you with the wild enthusiasts of the 
Rienzi breed, who would rejoice to see this spot, this 
Forum, I say, in the same uproar as formerly, in the 
days of the Gracchi. The best way to cool such heated 
brains, is to remind them of the argument used by 
Saturnius, in his reply to Tiberius Gracchus. He was 
a shrew T d fellow, that Saturnius ; he did not w r ield the 
Aristotelian syllogisms and enthymems ; but he came to 
the point at once. Tiberius’s brain did he so convince, 
that his oratorical weapon penetrated the suture of his 
skull. He w r as the inventor of the bench-argument. 
O ! he was the flower of the benchers /” And so he 
goes on in jocose mood; adding, in the intervals of his 
laughter, and at the same time punning in Latin : “ O 
aurea scecula ! O Saturnia tempora incideniia Grac- 
chanis temporibus /” 

The subsequent Lent he dines with the Padri Cap- 
puccini , taking in the pocket of his rusty coat, fourteen 
or fifteen fine and healthy chestnuts, and many more of 
shrivelled appearance, and many containing nothing 

t 

within the husks. The cloth being removed, he roasts 
them at the refectory fire, blowing the sparks from them, 
and whistling at his fingers, as he puts them, one bv 


ROMANCE. 


301 


one, on the table. Turning to Father Girolamo, he 
says : “ You see the separation of the chestnuts was no 
easy matteralluding to the difficulties he had expe¬ 
rienced in the arduous task of the desecration of the 
saints of the middle ages. He now discharges his 
thunderbolt of mind, which for some time he had reserved 
in the armamentaria Vaticani at the Campidoglio; and 
gives, in the first place, orders to remove to the Vatican, 
all the monuments of arts therein deposited. Of the 
three buildings there, thus left bare, the one to the right, 
as you ascend the steps, bears on its frise, in letters of 
bronze, the words, TRIBUNALE CIVILE ; its companion 
opposite is inscribed TRIBUNALE CRIMINALE ; wffiile 
the central building is to be devoted to the reception 
and conservation of testamentary bequests, and other 
legal documents. He orders the statue of Marcus 
Aurelius to be removed, and placed in the centre of the 
largest court in the Vatican ; and a marble group to be 
substituted in its room, representing Themis and Justice 
embracing. 

He next turns his attention to the establishment of a 
law-college for the students, to consist entirely of laics; 
and he cannot select a better building for the purpose 
than the Palazzo di Venezia; which, with about twenty 
thousand scudi , he cuts up into apartments, capable of 
receiving about one hundred followers of the profession 


I 


302 HORiE 

of the law. These apartments he lets to the students, 
at a very low rate, leaving each to provide his own furni¬ 
ture. I due Presidenii dei Tribunali Civili e Criminali 
are each paid instar the Cardinals d latere; and he 
orders the sittings of the Tribunals to be public ; each to 
be held twice a year, and, of course, to sit as long as 
the greater or less pressure of cases would require. He 
orders a summary of their proceedings to be printed in 
the Gazettes. He reserves for himself the right of 
reprieve and pardon ; which, in criminal cases of black 
and occult malignity, he would never exercise. Heavy 
would be the task of revising the criminal law; and he 
could only hope to leave things in train for his successor 
to follow up. His dislike of the old system of indul¬ 
gences is so inveterate, that he rarely lets slip an oppor¬ 
tunity of launching a sarcasm against them. Once as 
he was walking in the Via Papale, he met a waggoner 
giving a smart stroke of the whip to a restive horse that 
was dragging a load of hay. “ What right have you,” 
he said in a mock austere tone, “to punish that poor 
animal ? You do not know, I suppose, that I granted 
him a week ago, plenary indulgence for all sins that he 
may commit for seven years, two months, eleven days, 
six hours, and nine minutes. Had he kicked, and 
broken your thigh-bone, you would have been a profane 
fellow to wish even to stir in your defence.” 


ROMANCE. 


303 


Walking one day through Trastevere, with his cham¬ 
berlain, he is accosted by a certain Jeroboam Hothed, a 
determined Calvinist, who had travelled all the way from 
Leeds, on purpose to give a spiritual warning to the 
Pope. He roars out: “ Thou scarlet sin ! quit my sight, 
let the earth hide thee ! Thou beast with seven heads 
and ten horns, to w r hom the dragon giveth power to 
blaspheme God, and vex the saints, avaunt! What is 
thy number ? Thou knowest it not. Hear it from me, 
a true servant of the Lamb. Thy number is six hun¬ 
dred, three score, and six. It is written on thy forehead; 
though thou knowest not that it is there. Thou caterer 
for the mother of harlots, and all abominations, thou 
that drinkest the blood of the saints, polluted would be 
the earth were it to swallow thee up ! He who re¬ 
ceives thy mark, shall drink of the wine of the wrath of 
God. He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone 
in the presence of the angels and Lamb for evermore.” 
The Pontiff having kept his eyes fixedly on Hothed, all 
the time he was thus ranting, pursues his walk towards 
the Villa Pamfili, without saying one word. 

In the subsequent week, he takes an airing in a shut 
up carriage, to the Scala santa , with Angelo Maggio- 
ranti, librarian of the Vatican, a man with a hawk’s eye, 
of profound erudition, and various information. Point¬ 
ing to the scala , he says : “ The quota of veneration, 


304 


HOR42 


Maggioranti, that I feel for these relics, is generally in 
proportion to their greater or less authenticity. Have 
we good authority, Angelo, for believing that this is the 
identical scala , mounted by our Saviour, when led before 
Pilate ? Can any one state to me, on good foundation, 
the year, the month, the day, when it was brought from 
Jerusalem to Rome ? Can he inform me, who was 
tetrarch of Judaea, when it was broken up from the 
house that was Pilate’s ? Can he tell me who filled my 
chair, when the stone staircase arrived ? At what port 
did it land ? Was it embarked at Tyre, Sidon, or any 
other of the Phoenician ports? Do rummage the Vati¬ 
can, Angelo, and see if any records exist, that may 
serve to clear up these points. 

“ Ah, Angelo, I am sometimes quarter wicked enough 
to think that this scala is first cousin to the aerial one, 
seen by Jacob in his dream ; and to deem it not impos¬ 
sible that it winged its way from Jerusalem with the 
same Dsedalean wings, that transported the Santa Casa 
to Loreto. I have also in my blood, a slight poison of 
incredulity with regard to the statue called of St. Peter 
in the Vatican, the toe of which, you know, is nearly 
eaten away by kisses; and which, I have heard, was 
originally the statue of some pagan deity. Now, if one 
of my predecessors knew that this statue was such, and 
at the same time urged its salutation out of respect to 


KOMANvE. 


305 


St. Peter, I have a great contempt for him. You 
know,” he adds, smiling, and speaking in a shrill tone, 
U fhat I am un Papa un poco difficile , un Papa un poco 
difficile at the same time touching Maggioranti’s 
forehead with his little finger. Maggioranti gently 
inclines his head without saying one word. He dines 
tete-a-tete with the Pontiff. The dessert introduced, 
the Pope draws from his coat a leather pocket-book, 
scratched and worn, and filled with nearly a hundred 
cards, beautifully written by himself, with short extracts 
from the works of the Fathers of the Church, done when 
he pursued his theological studies, twenty-two years 
since. “ Here is a sentence from Jerom; here is one 
from Augustine; here is one from Lactantius, another 
from Cyril, and another from Clement of Alexandria; 
here are two from Gregory of Nazianzen,” observes the 
Pontiff. “ None of these are any longer Saints; they 
are now enrolled in my new Libro dei Venerabili. In 
the new edition with which you are busied of the works 
of Augustine, I wish the title to be Venerabilis Augustini 
Opera; and let this serve as a model for the titles of 
any future editions, that may be undertaken of the works 
of the primitive fathers especially.” Maggioranti makes 
a slight inclination of the head, and says not a word. 
u I do not see on what grounds,” continues the Pontiff, 
“ the ancient Church assumed to herself the right of 


x 


306 


iiorA: 


canonizing Saints. It always appeared to me a sort of 
insult to the better essence of our religion. It is tanta¬ 
mount to saying to the Deity: ‘We will thrust this 
• 

individual into Heaven, whether you approve him, or no.’ 
The title of Venerahile is sufficient for the church to 
bestow. Indeed it cannot do more, without offering a 
positive insult to God. The case is different with the 
Twelve Apostles, who, having been named by our 
Saviour his coadjutors, obtained thereby a prescriptive 
right to sanctification. With regard to indulgences, it is 
incontestable, that they crept into the church in the 
dark ages. I suspect that they were the invention of 
that coxcomb, Urban the Second ; who procured money 
by the sale of them to recompense the crusaders; and 
so entailed endless scandal on the church. It was this 
fellow, Urban, (and I almost shame at bearing the same 
title) that sowed the seeds of the grand schism, which 
burst their pods four centuries after. Leo X., too, was 
a shameless tric-trac player at the game of indulgences; 
and then he stared at the Germanic schism, and after¬ 
wards at the British ! I would rather have my tongue 
torn out of my mouth, than say, as several of these 
coxcombs did, at least indirectly, through their agents; 
‘ Lo, the heavens are open ! For twelve pence, you may 
rescue your father’s soul from purgatory, and your own 
too.’ At the same time, it would be unfair to stigmatize 


ROMANS. 307 

the characters of some of the better of my predecessors 
with having encouraged such vile and despicable pro¬ 
ceedings.” Turning to other topics, he observes : “ The 
important question whether or no the dignitaries of the 
church should be allowed to marry, appears to me 
balanced by very nearly equivalent arguments. Our 
Saviour has left us nothing on this point conclusive. 
From the words of St. Paul, we may nevertheless infer, 
that he was in favour of their celibacy; which having 
subsisted from the earliest epochs of the Church, and 
made thereby venerable from its long date, I would not 
rashly alter.” 

“ Maggioranti,” he continues, <£ though many indi¬ 
viduals formerly reputed as Saints, no longer figure as 
such in the calendar, though many of them now bear 
only the title of Venerabile , I should be sorry to see their 
names wholly omitted in any sermon that may be 
preached, which may derive greater argument by a 
reference to their authority and example; provided 
that when they be mentioned, it be only under the title 
of Venerabile. For instance: il venerabile Augustino , 
il venerabile Massillon , &c. &c.” Speaking of the 
Vatican library, he says : “ I do not want to be difficult 
with regard to natives or foreigners consulting the 
books. A simple permission from you will be sufficient. 
But if any individual wants to consult the manuscripts, 


308 


HOR-cE 


it will be necessary for him to obtain a rescript from 
me.” He alludes to ecclesiastical decorations, saying: 
“ I am averse to many pictures in churches; let a fine 
one, illustrative of some act of our Saviour, or of one or 
other of the Apostles or Evangelists, be at the altar 
piece ; and that will be generally sufficient, except in 
churches, like St. Peter’s, vast. I do not look for picture 
galleries in churches. Devotion is better ensured by 
concentrating it in one focus, and that should be at the 
altar. Neither do I approve of that multitude of cha¬ 
pels so frequently tacked on to the main building, and 
destroying its form.” He turns to other topics, and 
asks Maggioranti, whether he thinks there by any good 
authority for imagining that the works of Vitruvius are 
forgeries. “ You are aware probably that they have 
been rumoured to be so; I should be sorry to find it 
made out that Vitruvius did not compose them. I have 
derived some profit from their perusal; and you know,” 
he adds, laughing, “that I am a bit of a dabbler in 
architecture; if not grandmaster, at least a mason, and 
a free one too;” pinching at the same time Maggioranti 
on the knee. The librarian, having kept his eyes on 
the firmament all the time the Pontiff was talking, in¬ 
clines again his head and retires without saying a word.- 
A few days after he summons Calci, the plasterer. 
The Pope, in humorous mood, says to him : “ Calci, I 


ROMANCE. 


309 


suspect you are getting an idle fellow touching the 
artist’s forehead with his little finger; “ tell me if you 
know how to clean effectually statues, without injuring 
the marble.” “ I do, Santo Padre” retorts Calci. 
“ Apply your process then to Bernini’s statues on the 
Ponte Sant ’ Angelo; but mind, if you injure them in 
the least, I’ll calcinate your bones, by throwing them, 
one by one, into a brick-kiln. They’ll make excellent 
mortar, wherewith I’ll build a church dedicated to Saint 
Calci. I’ll preserve your great toe, and tell all good 
men who come to Rome, This was Saint Calci’s toe!” 
convulsing his ribs with laughter. This was one of the 
last of his playful, yet coarsish sallies, in which he never 
indulged, whenever the essentials of religion were the 
topics of his discourse. 

A few days afterwards, a dean of Durham, a canon 
of Norwich, a Calvinist of Manchester, an anabaptist of 
Leeds, a Joanna-Southcotian from Exeter, a presbyte^ 
rian pastor of Dumfries, and a Humeist from Edinburgh, 
all firm anti-catholics, happening to rendezvous at 
Rome, solicit the honour of an interview with the Pope, 
to say on their return home, “ We have seen TJrbano .” 
He receives them just within the pale of civility ; which 
temper of mind soon subsides into a coldness. This, 
though not intended as offensive by the Pontiff, is con¬ 
strued as such by the visitors, who, taking umbrage at 


310 


HORjE 


it, retire with cold bows on their parts. Urbano, turn- 
ing to Maggioranti, who was engaged with manuscripts 
at an adjoining table, says : “ In spite of myself, I always 
feel a chill strike my ventricles, whenever any venerators 
and asserters of the sanctity of Henry VIII. approach 
me. I should feel much more at ease with the Japanese 
envoys, received by Sisto Quinto, than with them. 
Here are men, whose respectability I have no right to 
question; belonging to nations as intellectual as Italy ; 
and yet losing half the value of their sacred vocation by 
a blind devotion to the spiritual majesty of their eighth 
Henry. What would these same gentlemen think of 
the Roman conclave, had it decreed, three and a half 

0 

centuries ago, that Alexander VI. and the fruit of his 
loins, should for ever reign both hierarchically and tem¬ 
porally in Rome ? The dean of Durham looked as if 
he w r as sure of my being privy to the incendiarism of 
the British Houses of Parliament, that occurred a few 
years ago; at another moment, he looked as if he 
wished to give me a lecture on civil liberty, dressed as 
he was in the sacred livery of his eighth Henry. And 
I expected to see the canon of Norwich produce'from 
his pocket a sermon preached before both Houses of 
Parliament, to convict me of impiety, for preferring 
Saint Peter as chief of the Christian church, to his ow r n 
divine eighth Henry, illustrated with perpetual commen- 


ROMANS. 


311 


taries by my Lords of Canterbury, York, and Gloucester, 
also with convincing annotations from the pens * of 
Doctors Fox, Petty, and Russell;” and this he says 
pacing up and down his apartment, filling his nostrils 
with rapee, and chuckling gutturally. “ The anabaptist 
from Leeds,” he continues, “ had the air of thinking me 
nothing better than a Guy Fawkes in pontificalibus, 
always standing with my fusee lighted, and ready to 
blow the King and Parliament all up alive, making them 
ride on such a blast as Milton’s Satan met in Chaos,’’ 
chuckling again gutturally. u The Humeist from Edin¬ 
burgh, with a face of dry and wrinkled parchment, and 

A 

an Icelandic heart, stood gaping at me; and as for my 
friend the Dumfries presbyterian, he appeared more 
than half inclined to spit and roast me in Smithfield. 
The straight-haired Manchester Calvinist I expected to 
see produce from his pocket a right holy and edifying 
plan to transform St. Peter’s into a wailing meeting¬ 
house, nicely divided into pews at one Paul per seat; 
and as for the Joanna-Southcotian, he looked as if he 
was ready to produce the old Exeter apple-woman’s 
cradle for the new Shiloh, and force me to kneel before 
it. Maggioranti, is not my coldness a natural corollary 
to these, and a hundred other considerations ? Never 
let me see more of this sacred brood of the eighth 
Henry.” 


312 


HORiE 


In the summer of the ninth year of his pontificate, he 
summons thirty-seven of the most learned dignitaries of 
the church, to the great hall of Castel Gandolfo, and 
among them, Yalpini, supervisor of the Propaganda 
press. With them he discusses minutely the best mode 
of organising the new ritual. After several pithy and 
pointed remarks, on the absurdity of cramming rusty 
Latin into the mouths of the congregations, he says: 
“ The new ritual shall be wholly in the Italian language. 
It should form a volume of smallish bulk. I mean to 
introduce into it the English Litany, nearly word for 

word. The prayers should be, I apprehend, divided 

* 

into two classes : first, the direct; secondly, the inter¬ 
ceding. The first should only be directed to the triune 
First Cause, or, in ecclesiastical language, to God the 
Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost; or, in 
other words, to the Holy Trinity. The interceding 
prayers should be introduced into the service of the 
Church, on the festivals of those saints appointed as 
saints by Article the first of my late Council of Lateran, 
and only addressed to them. Our Church is very rich 
in pious effusions. We have many fine compositions, 
addressed to those individuals who have hitherto figured 
as saints in the calendar. Some of the finest of these 
may be preserved, substituting the names of the sacred 
persons above indicated. Such are the general bases I 


ROMANCE. 


313 


intend to adopt for tlie reformation of our Liturgy. As 
to the number of prayers, I pretend not to decide, 
whether they should be ten, twenty, or even more, ex¬ 
clusive of the Litany. Great delicacy will be required 
in the selection, in the length of the prayers, which 
should not be considerable, and in their number; and I 
beg you earnestly to observe this important point, which 
is, not to fail to note in the Liturgy, at the head of the 
interceding prayers, the days on which they are to be 
recited.” Turning to Yalpini, he says: “ I hope, in a 
short twelvemonth, this work, which appears primd 
facie difficult, but which in fact is not so, will be brought 
to a conclusion.” After dismissing the assembly, he 
calls aside Valpini, and says: “ As soon as I shall have 
determined on the new Liturgy, I beg you will cause to 
be struck off at the Propaganda press, one hundred 
copies on vellum; these will be deposited in different 
libraries; five hundred on finest paper; three thousand 
on inferior; and ten thousand on common paper. I 
hope the last will not cost more to the public than three 
pauls a-piece. I do not intend to give generally the 
ritual gratis to the poor; for you, as well as myself, are 
aware, that the great mass of the inferior orders of 
society are apt to attach no value to things which they 
can acquire too easily. This effected, in, I hope, about 
a twelvemonth, I have in view the publication and dis- 


314 


HORiE 


tribution among the booksellers, in the Italian language, 
of one volume, which will comprise a selection of about 
fifty of the finest of David’s Psalms, the book of Job, the 
Proverbs, and most of the chapters of the Wisdom of 
Solomon, Ecclesiastes, and Ecclesiasticus. These will 
form the first part of the compilation; the second part 
will comprise the whole of the New Testament, omitting 
the Revelations.” 

Then assuming a cheerful tone, and at the same time 
touching Valpini’s forehead, with his little finger, he 
says: “ Now, my dear Valpini, put on your spurs, and 
drive them deep into the flanks of the Propaganda. 
Sudor Jiuai undique rivis. If those inky devils of thine 
work well, I will not fail to turn them into angels of 
light.” 

The succeeding year, the works at the Campidoglio 
being nearly completed, he attends, in state, the first 
opening of the tribunals; and takes his seat on the right 
hand of the President of the Civil Court. He listens 
with earnest attention to the proceedings, especially to a 
luminous development of a difficult case, by the Avvocato 
Cinori. With it he is so much pleased, that he invites 
the lawyer to dine with him the next day at the Vatican. 
During dinner he discusses several legal topics, among 
others, the trial by jury, the universal expediency of 
which he questions, with great acuteness, for a man not 


romance. 


315 


professionally a lawyer. At the dessert, the servants in¬ 
troduce a plateau, covered with a small but elegant 
service of plate, with which he regales Cinori. 

Shortly after, he summons the Cardinal di San Marco , 
who abominates the Pontiff, who uses his utmost en¬ 
deavours to thwart him in all his projects of improve¬ 
ment, and Urbano says to him : “ What a scurvy fellow 
you are, Cardinal! I know, that exclusive of your 
cardinalate, you enjoy twenty-five thousand scudi per 
annum. And how do you spend it ? You can hardly 
tell me; unless it be in parading the Corso, in your 
coach and four. Taste for agriculture, the fine arts, 
books, a heart for charity, you have none. Though you 
riot in good health, and have excellent sight, you cannot 
even master what, with those advantages, is easy of 
attainment, I mean an ordinary grade in the scale of 
good manners. I never solicited your love, being one of 
those who believe that the affections of our hearts are 
by no means under our own control; but you sit before 
your fire, biting the inside of your cheeks, and spitting 
viper-venom against me, who never wronged you, in 
word or deed. O ! you are a sorry one for the red hat.” 
The Cardinal, writhing like a scotched snake, retires, 
biting his lips, colourless, and quivering with concen¬ 
trated and irredeemable envy, hate, and ire. 

The Pope, though he does all that lies in his power 


316 


HOR.E 


to break that stiffness of ceremony incidental to his sta¬ 
tion, is not, however, pleased, unless he be addressed 
with the title of Santo Padre , or simply Santitd; and 
he likes to hear these words spoken trippingly, as it 
were, on the tongue, and without emphasis. As for his 
amusements, he now and then indulges in a game at 
whist, backgammon, and draughts, with two or three 
chosen friends; but only for a short time, and never 
playing for money. He occasionally summons from 
twenty to thirty of the students at the University, to 
Castel Gandolfo, where a vast target is planted on the 
great lawn; and where he gives to the most skilful 
archer, the prize of a silver cup of considerable value. 

Urbano cares not much for pictures or statues; but 
he is fond of the glyptic art, in all the details of which 
he is eminently skilled. He has a dactyliotheca, of 
great value, filled with good copies of all the finest 
cameos and intaglios known. On festival days, he 
sometimes wears a cameo of Augustus, cut on sardonyx, 
by Dioscourides; he possesses also a fine intaglio, on 

amethyst, of Titus, executed by Euodus, a contemporary 

% 

artist; he has also a splendid cameo, on cornelian, 
representing Marcus Aurelius, and executed by ^Epoli- 
anus, who flourished in his reign. The above three are 
the only originals he has. But he has a splendid head 
of Priam, copied from the gem of Aetion; a Minerva’s 


ROMANS. 


317 


head, from the jasper of Aspasius; an intaglio-copy, on 
sapphire, of the celebrated Dionysiac bull of Hyllus; a 
Theseus, slaying the Minotaur, from the gem of Phile¬ 
mon ; and an Achilles, sounding the lyre, from the ame¬ 
thyst of Pamphilus. 

In a conference with Onnibono, President of the Col¬ 
lege of Sant 1 Andrea della Valle , he says: “ Onnibono, 
I always had a high respect for several of the English 
preachers: I wish you would select half a dozen of the 
best of Tillotson’s sermons, as many of those of Blair, 
and as many of Barrow; see that they be faithfully ren¬ 
dered into the Italian language. The Italians surpass 
the English, as far as regards the imaginative faculty, 
but not in the argumentative. I intend these sermons 
to be occasionally delivered at St. Peter’s, during Lent 
especially. I beg you to set several hands in the College 
to work; and I hope to see the manuscripts in about a 
year from this day.” 

He now confers with the magistrates of the Rioni, on 
the best mode of appointing a company of scavengers, 
for the cleansing and lighting of the city. “ Their func¬ 
tions being any thing but pleasant,” he observes, “ they 
ought to be paid nearly double what the vine-labourers 
receive.” He says to them : “ See that no coffee-house 
or liquor-shop be open during the holy week; and that 
during Lent, they only be open from the hours of twelve 


318 


ho ra<: 


to three. The rest of the year, hours of service excepted 
on particular days, they may be open all day, till ten or 
eleven at night. With regard to the shops, during the 
holy week, all should be shut, except the bakers’, and 
those who vend articles of prime necessity; also, I think, 
every Wednesday and Friday during Lent. In spite of 
these apparent, though in fact no real checks, I intend 
to do all in my power to remove every obstacle in the 
way of commerce. c Veruntamen oportet dividi sacros 
et negotiosos dies , quis divina colerentur , et human a non 
impedirentur .’ For eighteen centuries, the city has been 
Roma la Santa; and Roma la Santa she shall remain!” 

The Pope, walking one day with the Cardinal of 
Araceli, in the Chiaramonte Museum, observes : “ This 
is superb. But when will the additions to the Vatican 
end ? Most of my predecessors thought they out-Tra- 
janed Trajan, by adding first one wing, then another, 
then a third, to a pile, which, even in the days of Sisto 
Quinto, was already too .vast. Cardinal, if I add one 
brick more to the Vatican, I will give you leave to in¬ 
scribe, in letters two feet high : 

STULTISSIMUS URBANUS NONUS 
.55DES VATICANAS AUXIT. 

My predecessor, Chiaramonte, though certainly a re¬ 
spectable man, spent much money absurdly enough, 


ROMANCE. 


319 


considering the scantiness of the Roman exchequer in 
his time.” 

Seeing the incogniti busts, not yet arranged, and 
lately removed from the Campidoglio, he says: “ I 
intend to order the destruction of many of these. Here 
are several busts so mutilated, that they can be of no 
service to art whatever. Perhaps some ten or dozen of 
them I may preserve. Here is one, which from some 
faint points of resemblance to Marcus Brutus, I would 
not destroy. Here is one, which from the contour of 
the forehead, may have been a Marcus Aurelius ; such, 
you see, Cardinal, I would preserve. But as for that 
host of noseless incogniti, they will make good materials 
for the Via Cassia.” He eyes for a minute fixedly the 
two mutilated busts of Publius Virgilius Maro, and says : 
“ If we compare the few points of resemblance that 
remain in these two, with those in the more perfect 
marble of the Vatican, I think we may find they tally 
sufficiently to give us a fair idea of the physiognomy of 
the divine poet, who, had he written works of much 
inferior value than what he has left us, would still, if 
clothed in similarly harmonious versification, have en¬ 
sured for himself immortality.” He lays his hand on 
the vase given by Mithridates to the Temple of Fortune 
at Antium. “ This bronze,” he says, “ must be of great 
value if authentic. I wish your nephew, who is con- 


320 


HOR/E 


versant with these things, would write a short memoir, 
showing me who was the fisherman who dragged it up, 
in whose pontificate it was found, and all circumstances 
relating to it.” He pauses for a minute, opposite the 
bust of the Emperor Julian, and says to the Cardinal of 
Araceli , who accompanied him: “ I cannot think this 
bust authentic. It has rather a mean expression; it has 
nothing of that ardent look, which must have been the 
characteristic of Julian, during his short and singular 
career.” Then, with a smile writhing his lips, he adds: 
“ 1 wonder how he and I should have pulled together, 
had we been contemporaries; perhaps, Cardinal, not 
quite so ill as you might at first imagine; for Christi¬ 
anity in his time was only nascent; it had not been 
purified by the meditations of the fathers of the Church, 
and other learned men. Its dross, in thick incrustations, 
rendered invisible its finer ore. Squalid faces were seen 
emerging from sepulchres; hands were brandishing cru¬ 
cifixes; and illiterate spirits dealt forth the menaces, 
but as yet little of the well-defined consolations of the 
new religion. I cannot otherwise account for the in¬ 
veterate hatred that animated Julian against the Christian 
converts.” He walks on the Vatican terrace, and point¬ 
ing to the ship-fountain, he says: “ Here is a pretty 
nonsense of one of my predecessors, Odescalchi, perhaps, 
wherewith to gratify his adorable Olympia. Who but a 


ROMANCE. 321 

coxcomb would make water spout from the yards, the 
deck, and the masts of a ship ? Let it be destroyed; 
and substitute a Triton emerging from a circular basin, 
and spouting a full volume of water from his conch.” 
He adds, laughing: “ 1 bequeath the ship-fountain to 
all the Misses of Rome, with their dolls. It is surprising 
what absurdities in art are often committed. In the 
garden of the Vatican, one of my predecessors placed 
what he called a rural villa, within a hundred yards of 
the enormous range of the Vatican buildings. Let this 
be rased to the ground. What right,” he adds, “ had 
Braschi to will, that the figure of his precious self should 
be placed immediately within the precinct of the great 
altar at St. Peter’s ? He had not a tenth part of the 
merit of Chiaramonte, nor the twentieth of that of Gan- 
ganelli. See that his statue be removed, and placed in 
another part of St. Peter’s church, by no means con¬ 
spicuously.” 

His spirits being this year somewhat shattered, he 
visits, for a month, Luca Anfossi, a priest of Terracina, 
and lodges with him in a very private manner, at that 
town; where warm sea-bathing, frictions, and the blue- 
pill, added to the 

Nemus, et fontes, soliduraque madentis arenae 

Littus, et aequoreis Candidas Anxur aquis. 


Y 


H OR JE 


3 22 

restore considerably his health. During his residence 
there, he marries, himself, two or three peasant couples. 

On his return to the Vatican, the Cardinal delV 
America settentrionale begs the permission to introduce 
to him several individuals from the United States; 
which, as they are not of the Catholic persuasion, is 
reluctantly granted by Urbano. A tunker from Boston, 
a shaker from Cincinnati, a Wesleyan methodist from 
Dismal Swamp, a Whitfieldian from Canandaguia, a 
wet quaker from George Town, a Moravian from Beth¬ 
lehem, an universal baptist from New York, a deist from 
Fayetteville, a dry quaker from New Orleans, a Socinian 
from Pittsburgh, a sceptic from Louisburgh, a Sweden- 
borgian from Norfolk, an anabaptist from Albany, a 
congregationalist from Washington, a Mennonist from 
Charleston, and a mongrel, got by a tunker, out of a 
shakeress from Alabama, form the group introduced by 
the Cardinal. The Pontiff addresses a few words to 
them for some minutes; and is glad to give the signifi¬ 
cant bow of dismissal. They are no sooner gone, than 
Urbano, turning to the Cardinal, says: “ The sight of 
these schismatics, condemned, as they appear to be, to 
sow endless heart-burnings among one another, operates 
on my understanding like ipecacuanha on my stomach. 
Did not the quaker and shaker look pretty considerably 
as if they suspected me of wishing to kill their President, 


ROMANCE. 3*23 

and substitute, in his room, a Louis XI. on the throne 
of Washington ? Thanh you for the spiritual breakfast 
you have served me up this morning, Cardinal; thank 
you for it again and again. To put me in good humour, 
I suppose you will send me next, from America, a ham¬ 
per filled with living Crotali horridi This he says 
half smiling, and half with bitterness, a temper that oc¬ 
casionally characterises the Pontiff. In a most serious 
tone, and shedding tears, he adds afterwards: “ These 
are the miseries of multiplied schisms. Blank atheism 
excepted, can a greater scourge befall a nation, than to 
be cut up into these multitudinous sects ? Alas ! I see 
but little hope for a better state of things, either in the 
British isles, or the United States of America, till en¬ 
lightened minds shall see the beauty of a point of unity 
in religion. I go further, and assert, that it would be 
better on the whole to make one or two sacrifices in the 
subordinate articles of belief, than for a nation to be thus 
at the mercy of hot-blooded and illiterate fanatics.” 

His temper not a little harassed by these visitors, one 
Pietro Marchi steps in, to propose a plan for a new 
church, to be built on the summit of the Monte Mario, 
and which is nearly to equal St. Peter’s in size. The 
Pontiff, in almost the only bad humour he ever gave 
way to, says to him in a raucous voice: “ Why do you 
not go and build your church in the centre of the desert 


324 


HOR^ 


of Sahara ? You would at least have there a congrega¬ 
tion of particles of sand, to be edified by a tornado-ser¬ 
mon, which you could not have at Rome.” Turning to 
his Camerlingo , he says: “ Do remove this poor cox¬ 
comb from my sight. Send him to the Incurdbili .” 

In the eleventh year of his pontificate, business press¬ 
ing less than usual, he orders the Chiaramonte museum 

7 

to be shut for a month to strangers; and the saloon to 
be lighted about a dozen times, with a hundred argand 
lamps. Half a dozen small tables are furnished with 
dilettante opuscules on some of the marbles. Here he 
passes several evenings, in company with two or three 
learned friends. His mind being full of more important 
matter, he would frequently jump up, and launch forth 
in as bitter tirades against the obstinacy and narrow¬ 
mindedness, that for so long a period had characterized 
the Vatican, as ever fell from the lips of one of Luther’s 
disciples, or of Bonaparte himself. Now and then he 
plays for half an hour at backgammon, with the Cardinal 
di San Giovanni; and if the throw is on his side, he 
exclaims with irony : “ Come, that’s an infallible if 
against him : “ Come, that’s a fallible ,” chuckling gut- 
turally, and satirising in the same breath, the old doc¬ 
trine of papal infallibility. 

On Trinity Sunday of this year, Giannetta Stracchini, 
Laura Massi, and Maria Caltoni, three young ladies of 


ROMANS. 


325 


Taranto, accompanied by Sara Gravedonna, abbess of a 
nunnery in that city, are introduced to the Pontiff. The 
three young noviciates had persuaded the abbess to ac¬ 
company them to Rome, to procure the papal benedic¬ 
tion, before submitting to the tonsure. The Pope precedes 
them to his oratory, recites two or three prayers, not in 
rusty Latin, but in Italian; and gives the fair noviciates, 
as well as their abbess, impressively his benediction. 

Shortly after, he gives a tete-a-tete dinner to the 
Cardinal delle Isole Britanniche; with whom he quaffs 
some porter, sent to him from the house of Messrs. Meux 
and Co., in London. “ I always liked this beverage,” 
says the Pontiff, c; it gives strength.” Then, before emp¬ 
tying the glass, he says significantly to the Cardinal: 
“ Cela va de meux en meux ,” playing on the name of 
the brewer, and alluding to the hopes he cherished of 
things, by-and-by, moving better in the religious world. 
Urbano is, however, never happier than when he dines 
with the Padri Cappuccini , partaking of their frugal 
fare, and seasoning it with playful and innocent jokes, 
addressed to Father Girolamo. He, nevertheless, from 
time to time displays a considerable magnificence. He 
gives a dinner to fifty persons, among whom are nine of 
the cardinals, on a service of plate, presented to him as 
a subscription present, by the catholics of Ireland, and 
worth twenty thousand English pounds. At one of 


32(> 


hom: 


these banquets, turning to his major-domo, Luigi Angel- 
lari, he says: “ Tap that cask of Dublin porter, given 
me last year by Patrick O’Sullivan, Esquire, of Limerick. 
He is a good man. He is equally charitable to catholics 
and protestants; he is not one of those who would re¬ 
nounce the ancient religion of his country, merely be¬ 
cause some fifty or a hundred rogues, three centuries 
ago, sold indulgences in Germany; merely because my 
predecessor, Leo X., spoiled perhaps by prosperity, 
omitted to reprimand them, as he ought to have done. 
Fill the goblets full to the health of Patrick O’Sullivan.” 
A magnificent band, stationed in the Loggie of Raphael, 
sets off the pontifical toast, with a cheerful symphony 
of Rossini. 

The revolving year, and the twelfth of his pontificate, 
brings back St. Peter’s festival; when the service is 
performed, for the first time, in the Italian language. 
Certain variations occur in the service on stated days. 
Stupendously fine is the first thunder of the organ from 
the lateral chapel, set off with thirty voices. Its entrails 
are from London; its case from Nuremberg, exhibiting 
two flying angels in altissimo relievo , the whole carved 
in lime-wood, and admirably joined ; but with no gilt 
pipes, as in England. Round the angels’ trumps, are 
two scrolls, inscribed: Gloria in Excelsis. The Pontiff 
is fond of the old anthems, from Palestrina and Corelli. 


ROMANCE. 


3*27 


He often, too, selects the music himself, from the works 
of Haydn and Handel, heretics as they were. 

A few days after, Maximilian Fiiger, of Augsburgh, 
and Cardinal deW Alemagna inferior c, well read in 
Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History, is ushered into the 
Camera del Papagallo. “ Ah, my dear Cardinal,” says 
Urbano, “ rejoiced am I to see you; though you be a 
Tramontane , to which title several superficial coxcombs 
here attach a sort of contempt. The German mind is, 
in many particulars, profounder than the Italian, and 
I am glad to find a man with whom I can converse 
e pectore.” “ Highly flattered am I,” rejoins the Cardi¬ 
nal, “ and I can bring you, Santo Padre , good news. 
Several hundreds of individuals in Germanv, in conse- 
quence of the acts of your late Council of Lateran, have 
bowed their heads to the original and true Church.” 
“ But where is the surprise?” says Urbano. “The 
great source of ill, the principle of corruption in the 
Church, was the sale of indulgences, and the absurd 
veneration for relics, which, three centuries ago, was 
pushed to such a pitch, that, had I lived in the time of 
Luther, I most likely should have sided with him. In 
my early years, I devoted much time to theology. I 
placed on one table, the arguments of the Protestants, on 
the other, those of the Catholics, and after having medi¬ 
tated thereon for a long time, I have come to quasi the 


328 


HORJE 


same conclusions as those promulgated by my late 
Council of Lateran. The inviolable and fundamental 
bases of the Catholic doctrines are ; religion through the 
merits of Christ, and the purity of the blessed Virgin ; 
the belief in purgatory, and in the seven sacraments; 
the necessity of confession ; the sanctity attached to our 
Saviour, to the Holy Ghost, to the Holy Trinity, to the 
blessed Virgin, to the twelve Apostles, to the Evangelists, 
to St. John the Baptist, and to no others. The adsciii- 
tious bulwarks of our religion, are the canonization of 
saints, arrogated, in my opinion unjustifiably, by the 
Church in the dark ages, together with the kissing of 
relics, and adoration, instead of veneration paid to those 
Christians, who have succeeded, either through the 
policy or imbecility of the ecclesiastical conclave, in 
obtaining the title of saints. But I trust, my dear 
Cardinal, that a new era is opening for Catholicism, that 
those nations, separated, in great degree, through our 
own fault, from the unity of doctrine and worship, will 
return to within the pale of the one and original religion.” 
The Pontiff had scarcely finished, when the Cardinal 
delle Isole Britanniclie comes in, bearing a box filled 
with letters announcing the conversion, or rather return 
of many families in the British isles, to the original 
religion. “ Ah,” says Urbano, “ they begin to sicken of 
the sanctity of their eighth Henry. 1 am persuaded 


ROMANCE. 


329 


they do; and all that we had to do, to effect this, was 
to acknowledge that the Catholic Church acted ill, in 
some subordinate particulars, three or four centuries 
ago.” As the Pontiff was speaking, it happened that the 
guard was changing at the Vatican, and the music acci¬ 
dentally struck up a favourite air of the Pope, “ See the 
conquering hero comes” which made his eyes sparkle; 
and he paces with rapidity the Camere di Rafaello , ac¬ 
companied by three cardinals; and an animated con¬ 
ference lasts till dinner, when the Pontiff relaxes into the 
indulgence of a short conviviality. 

The dessert removed, he rambles with seven cardi¬ 
nals, to the terrace in the garden, where he expatiates 
with great eloquence on the grandeur of the destinies of 
Rome, of what immense utility she has been in propa¬ 
gating the seeds of religion and civilization, though not 
always without their tares, in remote nations; on the 
courage, dignity, and learning of very many of her 
cardinals, both resident and legate. He gives a glowing 
picture of the ills that result from ecclesiastical schisms; 
and proves the great superiority of the original Catholic 
worship over every other; he descants on the meagre 
baldness of the twenty-fifth article of the English ordon- 
nances, which limits the sacraments to two; he inveighs 
bitterly against those priests, who, bearing the functions 
of confessors, abuse their sacred office by prying too 


330 


HORjE 


minutely into domestic concerns; observing that con¬ 
fession should never take place out of a church, except 
in cases of illness, or extraordinary emergency. He 
reprobates the triste monotony of the English worship, 
observing, that in the British isles, scarcely any diffe¬ 
rence is marked in the ritual, on fasts and feasts. “ This 
spreads,” he adds, “ a certain gloom over England, re¬ 
marked by every enlightened foreigner who visits that 
country; and for this Britain is indebted to the sacred 
unction of her eighth Henry. Funereal tolls throughout 
the British isles are always heard, but no cheerful 
cariglione. I have indeed, generally speaking, a good 
opinion of the British nation; but the more I consider 
the great question of the schism, the lower is the esti¬ 
mate I form of her pretended reformers. Search all 
history with candour, and you will find no nation ranking 
so low, in a spiritual sense, as England at that period. 
And I am persuaded, that if Henry VIII, had cried to 
his trembling slaves in black livery : 4 I will have forty- 
five articles of faith, and not thirty-nine,’ forty-five 
would there have been. 4 I will have thirteen sacra¬ 
ments,’ let us fancy the matchless monarch saying; 
thirteen there would have been. 4 No, no,’ he cried, 
probably, to his dear Gardiner, flying in the face of the 
fundamental and venerable traditions of the Church, 
4 I’ll only have two sacraments;’ and two were decreed.” 


ROMAN/E. 


331 


—In a tone of irony, lie adds, “ I suppose I shall soon 
have to be edified by a series of sermons preached before 
the University of Cambridge, convicting the successors 
of St. Peter of contumacious impiety, in refusing to see 
the divine Spirit energizing transcendantly through the 
sacred vessel of the eighth Henry.” 

The Pontiff afterwards dwells on the superiority of 
the Roman Church, in not cutting up the interior into 
pews, and in letting the church open, even to the 
poorest, without requiring so much per pew per annum. 
He adds, that the Catholic congregations are summoned 
by a cheerful cariglione; while in Lent, and the holy 
week, the service is announced by a solemn toll. This 
distinction proclaims, he says, the fasts and feasts. He 
enters, at great length, on the abuses of indulgences, 
which, he says, must have crept into the Church during 
the dark ages. “ Indulgences,” he observes, “ caused 
the grand schism ; there is something rotten even in the 
word, which does not expressly convey the meaning of 
the institution; all that is good in them may be found in 
confession; all that is corrupt and dangerous, in them¬ 
selves; therefore, the late Council of Lateran has at 
length wisely decreed their abolition.” He dwells with 
great energy in favour of the doctrine of purgatory; 
remarking, how gross must have been perceptions of 
the reformers under Luther, when they excluded this 


332 


HORJE 


most essential point of doctrine. Turning to the 
Cardinal of San Pietro , he says: “ What should I 
be thought of, if I ordered a poor and hungry men¬ 
dicant, who had stolen a loaf from a baker, the same 
punishment due to one, who had poisoned the husband 
of a woman whom he had seduced, having before com¬ 
mitted several frauds and murders ? But such is the 
view the Protestants take of the justice of the Deity.” 
He then descants with fervour on the high merits of 
most of the cardinals legate in England, from the epoch 
of Augustine, to the days of the schism ; who frequently 
interposed their good offices, even to their own detri¬ 
ment, in the cruel dissensions between the kings and 
the barons; and without which interposition, the whole 
island would have been nothing better than a den of 
cut-throats. And this, he contends, may be often proved 
from the protestant historians themselves. The Pontiff 
continues these, and many other ecclesiastical topics, 
till the moon, peering over the Tiburtine hills, admo¬ 
nishes him to recruit his wasted energies With sleep. 

The Pope passed the Lent of this year with great 
severity. In Whitsun week, he retires to his favourite 
cottage at Tivoli, accompanied by the Cardinal delle 
Isole Britanniclie; drinking tea with whom, he says: 
“ Think not, Cardinal, that because I am averse to the 
pictures of the Madonna and Child placed at the corners 


ROMANCE. 333 

ot the streets; and often surrounded by ordure, I am, 
therefore, insensible of the value of her pictures, placed 
in decent situations. I have always remarked, that 
where poverty and disease laid their iron hands on any 
dwelling of the poor, if a picture of the Madonna and 
Child, with the lamp attached, be preserved in the 
chamber, a certain beam of hope and consolation has 
been diffused therefrom, and cheered the unhappy in¬ 
mates. With this conviction, my good friend the Car¬ 
dinal di San Bartolomeo , hav’ng some loose scudi , em¬ 
ployed them lately in procuring four hundred copies 
chiefly from Raphael, and Carlo Dolce, and distributed 
them among as many poor families. I am too good a 
Catholic, Cardinal, not to be aware of the Madonna and 
Child forming one of the most important essences of 
true Catholicism.” 

He alludes to his late desecration of Mary Magdalen, 
and inscription of her name in the new Libro dei Vene- 
rabili : “ Mary Magdalen cannot have less in Catholi¬ 
cism and Protestantism, than five thousand churches and 
hospitals, dedicated to her special patronage. This is 
rating her vastly too high. Her name, indeed, without 
the title Saint , is highly appropriate for an hospital of 
penitent females. Her example may be occasionally 
referred to in a sermon, and with good effect. But 
those numerous churches raised to her glory are, in my 


334 


1IORJE 


opinion, nothing more than the result of an overweening 
and ill-directed enthusiasm. The council then, by 
stripping her of all future churches, holidays, and altars, 
and inscribing her name in the new Libro , appears to 
me to have placed her in her proper sphere. Neither 
do I see how this courtesan of Judea could even obtain 
this honour, had it not been for her penitence, and 
touching proof of a reclaimed heart, which she shewed 
towards Christ, in his severe afflictions.” A long con¬ 
versation ensues with the Cardinal on divine grace, 
which the Pontiff concludes with these words : “ Good¬ 
ness in its finest essence, always drops unconsciously 
as it were, from the heart; if it be attended by premedi¬ 
tation and consciousness, it loses something of its 
odour. In its first character, it resembles the violet on 
a sequestered bank, quaffing fragrance from the dews of 
heaven, and consigning it to the passing breeze of May ; 
in its last, it is the violet carefully manured in the trim 
parterre, looking finer than the other, but odourless in 
comparison.” 

The thirteenth year of his pontificate sets in; and he 
gives audience to Atanasio Bevilacqua, a monk of the 
rigidly austere order of San Bruno, and a conscientious 
follower of that saint. His hair was dishevelled, and 
his limbs were dried like parchment, by the blasts of 
Mount Vultur. The Pope receives him with the greatest 


ROMANCE. 


335 


kindness. A momentary silence ensues; when the 
Pontiff turning to his valet, says : “ Casaglio, my horse¬ 
hair cilix; and my thread-bare habit of San Bruno, 
bring them immediately.” The Pope retiring, reappears 
dressed like Bevilacqua, and walks with him arm in 
arm, to an ilex-harbour in the Vatican garden. A 
dinner is served them both, consisting of a portion of 
salt fish, two hard biscuits, a few water cresses, and a 
jug of water in the coarsest ware. The Pope says, 
during dinner, “ I know that the Protestants look upon 
San Bruno, as nothing more or less than a superstitious 
madman. For my part I always contemplated him as a 
being remarkable at least for his sincerity. If sincerity 
ever found an asylum in the human heart, it found it in 
Bruno’s. He was no half and half man. He was not 
like the Jesuits, who, while they were feathering their 
own nests with luxuries and intrigues, preached poverty 
and humility to the poor. He was the greatest trampler 
down of the vanities and temptations of the world, that 
ever existed. Yes—he was il vero mastino Calabrese , 
il Diogene della Santa Chiesa ! Like all other orders, 
his has been often abused; and some robbers and 
assassins have skulked under his garb. Very few 
indeed have the courage to follow his discipline consci¬ 
entiously, and I, for one, should make a sorry Brunite. 
You know, my friend, he is no longer a saint; but he 


336 


HORiE 


fills a splendid page in the new Libro dei Venerabili. 
Had the Council of Lateran made an exception to its 
adopted rule, it would have been in favour of Bruno. 
And how goes on old Monte Vergine? Stands Vultur 
where it did ? Do the rains pelt it, does the hail rattle 
against it, do the winds howl around it as of old, when 

V I 

they formed the sacred orchestra of Bruno ?” 

The Pope then taking Bevilacqua to his study, shows 
him a picture of Bruno in the desert, by Salvator Rosa; 
and tells him, that he would rather part with many pic¬ 
tures in the Vatican than that. He orders one of his 
carriages to take him back to Monte Vergine; accompa¬ 
nies him to the end of Bernini’s columns; hands him 
himself into the carriage; a compliment which he never 
paid to any one else; walks by the carriage, to the end 
of the bridge of Saint Angelo; and says a thousand kind 
things on taking leave of Bevilacqua. 

In the same week, Andrea Zoffani, supervisor of the 
public works, is ushered into the Camera del Papagallo . 
During the conference, he says: “ I always entertained 
a high respect for the character of Belisarius; I can add 
nothing to his glory, I can do something for his memory. 
The Porta del Popolo was at one period called the 
Porta Belisaria; let it resume that title; destroy the 
tablet containing the present inscription, and substitute 
a clean slab of Tiburtine, with the words Porta Belisaria 


ROMANCE. 


337 


cut in black Carrara marble, and inserted with strong 
cement, mosaically, in the stone. Let the letters be 
nine inches high. I hope it will be done in two months. 
Tell also Carlo Fenni, that clever disciple of Thorwald- 
sen, to execute in the finest white Carrara, a statue 
larger than life, of Belisarius in his mendicity. Let him 
take his time. When finished, station it in one of the 
rotundas of the Vatican ” 

Towards the close of February, as he w r as walking- 
one day, with his private secretary, in a narrow street 
near the Pantheon, he noticed a small shed erected 
against an old house, over which were the w r ords: 
Federico Lattanti Calzolajo , ill-scrawled in black chalk, 
on a deal board. The words struck the Pontiff as not 
unknown to him ; for Margarita, the Urbania nutrix at 
Arpino, whose bones w r ere long since peeled by the 
worms, w r as so named. The Pope soon discovered that 
Federico w r as her son. Partly from untoward circum¬ 
stances, and partly from his own fault, he was sadly 
reduced, and scarcely contrived to keep body and soul 
together by mending old shoes. Pale misery had worn 
him to the bone ; and on his back hung ragged poverty. 
The Pontiff, with the view of cheering him, said : 
“ Ebbene Federico , come vanno le cose , teco ?” “ Non 

troppo bene , Santo Padre ,” replied Federico, sobbing. 
The Pope, taking from his pocket three doubloons, 


z 


338 


HORiE 


ordered Federico to measure him for a pair of shoes, say¬ 
ing : “ Take care, my good fellow, not to give me corns; 
for if you do, you will make my steps more difficult for 
me to take than they already are.” He orders his secre¬ 
tary to inscribe Federico on the pension list for fifty 
scudi per annum. 

Urbano summons, a day or two after, one of the 
canons of St. Peter’s, who but little liked the Pope, and 
he says to him : “ S'accommodi , s'accommodi , Canone. 
Do you know the history of that universally-known 
statue of St. Peter, which stands at the end of the nave 
of the cathedral, and the toe of which has been eaten 
away by at least one hundred millions of kisses ? You 
are a man of some erudition; search the Vatican, and 

deliver to me a memoir, as soon as you can; stating 

✓ 

therein, the time when it first began to be venerated as 
a true statue of the apostle. It is at best of very doubtful 
authority. Opinions are divided on the subject. Many 
cognoscenti have seen in it a Janus, others, a Jupiter. 
That it was originally pagan, there can be but little 
doubt. Do try and discover which of my predecessors 
it was, who, holding the office opposite to St. Peter, and 
who, knowing the statue to be a pagan antique, set it up 
to the people as a true one of the apostle. And yet I 
dare say this, his most worthy successor, gave himself 
out as one of the infallibles , one of the absolutely infal - 


ROMANS, 


339 


libles. Where things reputed sacred stand on so sandy 
a foundation, my conscience will not sting me in au¬ 
thorising that clever young artist, Pannoni, to carve 
another in Carrara marble, in quasi the same attitude, 
and rather larger than the old one, bond fide cut from 
the first stroke of the chisel, in honour of St. Peter, and 
dedicated to him in the name of the Catholic church. 
I hope it will be ready by the St. Peter’s day after next, 
when I purpose, after officiating at the altar, to conse¬ 
crate the statue, and imprint on its foot the first kiss. 
v This ceremony, I know, has been derided by the Pro¬ 
testants. But it has subsisted from the earliest epoch 
of the church; it is very venerable; and gross must be 
the fibres of those schismatics, who cannot perceive in 
the kiss, a tacit enunciation of this sentiment: “ I vene¬ 
rate those doctrines, of which thou, St. Peter, wast the 
chief organ.”—The Canon bows and retires. 

The succeeding month, being at Castel Gandolfo, he 
writes an autograph to the new electoral College for the 
nomination of future pontiffs, stating, that it would be 
advisable for the College to adopt as a rule, the non¬ 
admission of any candidate for the filling of a vacancy 
in the College, unless he can show that he is master of 
three languages, besides his maternal. This may be 
done, he says, by a professor of the University present¬ 
ing to them three books, in whichsoever of these three 


340 




% 


languages they may profess themselves proficient. Not, 
he adds, that it will be necessary for them to prove a 
rigid grammatical knowledge in the three tongues; it 
will be sufficient if they know the general meaning of 
any page presented to them. The regulation is adopted; 
and pursuant to it, an individual of the old Vendramini 
family at Venice, presenting himself as a candidate, and 
scarcely knowing one tongue more than the Italian, was 
forced to make way for Luigi Melzi, son of a small mer¬ 
chant at Leghorn, a young priest of great promise, and 
who mastered three languages fluently, besides his own.; 
The Pope, in his epistle to the sacred College, remarked, 
that he had always observed, that the study of languages 
did more towards removing narrow-minded prejudices, 
than any other. He decrees too, that the electoral Col¬ 
lege for the nomination of the Pope, comprising only for 
the future, the Dean and Canons of St. Peter’s, united 
to those of St. John Lateran, should be designated the 
Sacred College; and that the College of Cardinals 
should be called the Consistory; and that these two 
bodies united, and occasionally convoked for the in¬ 
scription of an individual in the Libro dei Venerabili , 
or for other important functions, should be designated 
the Grand Consistory. 

Walking one morning on the terrace of the Vatican, 
with two Abati , he is accosted by one Marco Ricci, a 


ROMANCE. 


341 


very worthy, but very scrupulous priest of Sinigaglia. 
He presents a petition to the Pope, who on reading it, 
finds that it contains an exhortation to nominate for 
every episcopacy in Christendom, male innocents born 
in wedlock. Their functions to continue from the age 
of two years, to that of six; at which period, they are 
to make way for others; because about that age, they 
open their eyes to the sins and disorders of this world ; 
and derive therefrom more or less contamination. The 
two Abati taking snuff, treat the proposal with derision. 
Not so, the Pontiff; who folding the petition, lays it to 
his heart, turns for a moment his eyes to heaven, gives 
the bow of dismissal to Ricci, and says not one word. 

On Trinity Monday, the honourables John Foster 
and William Russell, senators of the United States, and 
Catholics of Maryland, are introduced to the Pope. 
They are accompanied by Francis Osborne, a priest 
of Baltimore, and well read in ecclesiastical literature. 
He too is kindly received. They dine with the Pontiff. 
On the removal of the cloth, he says with a slight 
guttural chuckle: “ I know, you Americans do not like 
the drones; come, I hope you do not think me one of 
the ignavum pecus. You republicans ought not to hate 
the Vatican, where the elective principle has so long 
obtained. Most defective indeed I found it; it cried 
loudly for reform; which I have applied to it. I have 


342 


HOJ?/E 


done all I can lo quell and annihilate those vile in¬ 
triguing interpositions of foreign envoys, which have so 
long been the disgrace of the sacred college. 1 have 
introduced therein a law, which henceforth strips of his 
benefices, and expels the Church, any member of the 
conclave, who during its session, shall receive or open 
any letter or parcel which may be addressed to him. 
This Vatican of our’s must no longer be a billiard-ball 
driven and pocketed by the queues of the French, 
Spanish, Austrian, Portuguese, and Neapolitan ambas¬ 
sadors. It must henceforth act solely on its own ground. 
My enemies say, (and I have enough of them) that my 
acts have wounded Catholicism. But I am certain that 
if they be probed profoundly, they will be found to 
renovate and purify her.” Fie then asks Osborne many 
questions touching the state of Catholicism in America ; 
and he praises the Catholics of Maryland, saying, “ that 
they are the most reputable individuals in the American 
Union; much better than the Irish, who give more 
trouble to the Vatican, than all the rest of Catholicism 
together, and whose chief object seems to be to make 
of their religion a tool for sedition.” He takes leave 
of his transatlantic guests with expressions of the 
best good will; places at their disposal his carriages 
during their stay at Rome; and names a learned Abate 
to accompany them in their visits to the antiquities. 


ROMANCE. 


343 


They take their departure a little before sunset; and the 
Pope, to stretch his legs, passes through the ilex-walk, 
to the garden in the rear of the Vatican; he no sooner 
gains the terrace, than he is accosted by a lady from 
the Swiss Canton of Gall; no longer a saint. She had 
evidently known better fortune, than what was her 
present lot. She solicits the Pontiff’s charity, stating, 
that she had been the mother of sixteen children. The 
Pope gave her three Venetian sequins, which was all he 
had in his pocket. Descending the terrace, the lady 
passed through the iron gate below. The Pope, turning 
to Facelutto , one of his private secretaries, who was 
with him, and touching at the same time, his forehead 
with his little finger, says to him in a husky tone : “ Ho 
pure mai amato quelle trote” 

Shortly after, he visits the Cardinal Campeggi, of 
antique severity, descended in the fraternal line, from 
the dignitary Campeius, who figured at the court of 
Henry VIII. The venerable Cardinal was quasi octo¬ 
genarian, and had resided in a sort of cell on the Esqui 
line, for upwards of thirty years. In one small apart¬ 
ment he had a valuable collection of the Fathers of the 
Church, and of the Acta Conciliorum, very plainly 
bound, and from which he had made manuscript 
extracts, with commentaries, noting with great acute¬ 
ness, the tendencies of the different Councils towards 


344 


IIOIME 


meliorating or deteriorating Catholicism. His religious 
views quasi squared with those of the Pope. These 
manuscripts he purposed to bequeath to the Vatican 
library. The Cardinal had long let his beard grow, 
and generally wore the habit of the Celestine order, out 
of regard for a brother who had died many years since, 
a monk of that fraternity. A garden of half an acre, in 
which were several orange trees, sown by himself, and 

now of considerable size, furnished his chief amuse- 

\ 

ment. He had also an old Antonio Amati, dated 1599, 
and of exquisite tone; for which he had adapted some 
of the old music of Palestrina, Scarlatti, and Leo. On 
seeing the Pontiff enter his cell, he jumped up, and 
folding his withered arms round his neck, kissed his 
forehead. Urbano converses with him for a long hour ; 
and the conversation turns on the extent of the powers 
of ecclesiastical Councils. 44 They must be limited, from 
their nature,” says the Cardinal. 44 Thus if any Council 
were much to exceed the powers exerted of late by the 
Council of Lateran, it would nullify itself. No Council 
could alter the grand primary doctrines of our religion. 
No Council, I think, could cancel the sanctity of St. 
John the Baptist; for he was the founder of one of the 
most important of our doctrines ; nor I think of the 
Apostles, nor of the four Evangelists; they forming, as 
it were, the ducts of the water from the sacred font. 


ROMANCE. 


345 


Less still could any Council alter the doctrine of the 
Trinity, or annuli the sanctity of the Virgin. The late 
Council of Lateran has, I am of opinion, extended its 
powers to their fullest stretch.” 

The conversation then turned on what were the best . 
studies for the formation of a good Pope. “ I should 
say,” replied the Cardinal, Ci a good groundwork of 
Latin—small Greek—easy conversing power in one 
modern language at least, besides his own—no me¬ 
taphysics—no mathematics—no more of the physical 
sciences, than what will enable him to comprehend 
the popular parts of astronomy—a long three years’ 
devotion to theology and moral philosophy—a clear 
comprehension of all the details of ecclesiastical history; 
of all the orders of the Church ; and of all the sects and 
creeds into which the Christian world is divided. Let 
him add thereto suavity of manner; great gravity, 
during Lent especially; and for his amusements, let 
him act much as you do,” concluded the Cardinal. The 
Pope rises, and the Cardinal following him to the door, 
with both his arms uplifted, and the tears trickling 

down his venerable beard, gives the Pope his blessing. 

« 

Returning to the Vatican, a Cardinal remarked to 
Urbano: “ Santo Padre , pardon me, but the blessing 
should have come from you.” Retorts the Pontiff: “ I 
had intended it should; but I felt that T could not 


346 


HORiE 


bandy blessings with such a man as the Cardinal Cam- 
peggi.” The highest compliment probably ever paid 
from one man to another. 

In the subsequent week, Valentino and Proteo Ferri, 
• two gentlemen of Verona, versed in ecclesiastical affairs, 
though laics, are ushered into the Camera del Papagallo. 
Three years before, they had been appointed by the 
Pontiff, to sound the opinions of the most literate priests, 
relative to the acts of the Council of Lateran, in different 
towns throughout the Calabrias and Sicily. “ Well, 
Valentino,” says the Pope, “is Filippo Neri yet dese¬ 
crated at Naples ? He is, you know, no longer a saint; 
he has found his proper station in the new Libro dei 
Venerabili . This saint has had, within the last few 
years, dedicated to him at Naples, one of the most mag¬ 
nificent churches in all Italy; the Council of Lateran 
has, I believe, decreed that it should be consecrated to 
the blessed Virgin, or to the Trinity: and this is as it 
should be. It is high time to exalt the religious princi¬ 
ple in the Regno. For many years, even the Lazzaroni 
deride the liquefaction of the blood of Januarius; who, 
in my opinion, never existed; being most probably 
nothing more than a sanctified interpretation of the first 
month in the year, or in other words, nothing more than 
a Saint Janus. We may discover this Neapolitan saint 
in Ovid’s Fasti. And how, my good friends, did you 


ROMANCE. 


347 


find the spirits in the Calabrias, and in Sicily ? What 
news do you bring me from the three - promontoried 
isle ? What are the Messinese doing ? Are they going 
to frame in gold and diamonds, that most authentic of 
all letters, believed by them, and but by few others, to 
have been written to their ancestors by the Virgin Mary ? 
Are the Syracusans going to raise another church to 
their goddess Lucy ? What are the Palermitans about ? 
Are they going to exhaust Arabia of its frankincense, 
wherewith to perfume the bones of their Rosalia ? Are 
the Catanians about to do the same for their Agatha of 
the Goths ?” c£ Santo Padre” replies Valentino, “ I can, 
generally speaking, bring you good news. The acts of 
the Council of Lateran make progress pretty satisfacto¬ 
rily in the Regno. But I judge it imprudent to push 
things too fast in the Calabrias; for several of the illite¬ 
rate priests, your enemies, will, I am persuaded, without 
the greatest caution on your part, inflame the uneducated 
spirits against you. If an earthquake should occur, they 
will not fail to attribute it to your wickedness , as they 
already term the acts of the Council of Lateran. Several 
robbers at Taranto, Cosenza, and Reggio, are sharpening 
their knives for acts of atrocity, under pretence of aveng¬ 
ing the saints about to be desecrated. Much also is to 
be apprehended in the minor Sicilian towns; where the 
lower classes of priests, instigated and suborned by your 


348 


HOR/E 


enemies, will not fail to trumpet to their flocks, that, if 
the acts of the Council of Lateran be carried into effect, 
the Calabrias will be turned upside down by convulsing 
earthquakes; that Basilicata and Capitanata will reel to 
and fro like drunkards; that JEtna will vomit such fires, 
as to make Sicily one black mass of solid lava, from 
Pelorus to Lilybaeum. My brother and myself, attached 
to you sincerely as w r e are, cannot recommend to you 
too much caution, Santo Padre.” “ This is much as I 
expected,” replies the Pope. “ Festinemus lente—lente 
— lente” he adds, giving them at the same time the sig¬ 
nificant bow of dismissal. 

A day or two after, he writes an autograph to the 
ecclesiastical functionaries at Granada, informing them 
that, pursuant to the tenor of the Council of Lateran, 
the lighting the tapers, and saying of mass round the 
tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella, are to cease with the 
last day of the present year: the sacred functions to be 
hereafter confined to the grand altars. He sends also 
an artist to the monastery of Just, now stripped of his 
sanctity, in Estremadura, telling him to bring back an 
exact plan of the building, half a dozen views of the 
environs, and particular details of the chamber occupied 
by Charles V. 

Walking one morning before breakfast, on the Vatican 
terrace, he is accosted by an English lady, decently 


ROMAN/E. 


349 


veiled, and simply dressed, who begged him to give her 

% 

two children his blessing. Though she was Protestant, 
the Pope acceded to her request. He caressed the 
children; then turning to his secretary, said: “ Non 
Angli , seel Angeli forent , si Henrici octavi sanctitatem 
repudiate potuissent .” 

Soon after, he visits St. Peter’s, with the Cardinal of 
Sanf Andrea della Valle; and observes the statue of 
Braschi removed from the altar, and placed on a simple 
pedestal, against one of the walls, like the other monu¬ 
ments. “ He is well placed now,” said the Pope. 
“ Come, I have been somewhat too rough : Braschi was 
a gentleman, and spent much money in the encourage¬ 
ment of art.” 

The week after Easter, he appoints twenty-five indi¬ 
viduals, well versed in the externals of Catholicism, to 
collect as many of the reliques as possible, from the 
churches and private collections, and to provide that 
they should be arranged, as soon as practicable, on a 
dresser, continued the whole length of the great gallery, 
of the Christian antiquities. “ The abuses,” he says, 
“ have been for many centuries so crying; so many are 
spurious, as to excite the sneers and indignation of many 
zealous Catholics. When arranged on the great table, 
let them be separated into three classes; comprising, 
first, those that have every probability of being authentic; 


350 


HORJ2 




secondly, those that are doubtful; thirdly, those that 
have every probability of being spurious. Attach to as 
many as you can, a short document, illustrative, in as 
few words as possible, of the history of each relique. 
The first class I propose to restore to the places whence 
they came; for there exists in the human mind an un¬ 
quenchable principle of veneration for any thing authen¬ 
tic, that puts one in mind of those who are gone, and 
who have been specially gifted by the Deity. The second 
class of the reliques I intend to deposit in some of the 
lumber-rooms of the Vatican; after stripping them of 
any jewels, or gold, with which they may be adorned. 
These ornaments shall be restored to whatsoever church 
or individual they may belong. The third class shall be 
wholly destroyed.” 

He determines on visiting the venerable monastery 
of Monte Casino. On arriving there he dines in the re¬ 
fectory, wearing the habit of the Benedictine order. On 
the removal of the cloth, he says: “ My beloved 
brethren, you know, that by the decrees of the Council 
of Lateran, Benedict and Germano are no longer saints; 
they are to have no longer chapels or altars. It is my 
will that this monastery, so deservedly famed for the 
learned and pious men it has for more than one thousand 
years produced, should be reconsecrated to lo Spirito 
Santo. Many were the abuses which afflicted several 


ROMAN M. 


351 


ecclesiastical establishments, before the eruption of the 
French revolution; yet I would venture to vouch that 
this august monastery very generally acted up to the 
principles of the venerable founder. Wealthy you cer¬ 
tainly were; yet I have good reasons to believe that 
your riches were generally well spent. Your redundant 
coffers nourished the genius of Luca Giordano, whose 
master-pieces adorn your splendid chapel.” He remains 
three days with the monks, desecrates Benedict and 
Germano ; and reconsecrates with great solemnity, their 
monastery to the Holy Ghost. He visits the valuable 
library; and examines critically some manuscripts; 
among them, the visions of Alberico, supposed to have 
furnished the first idea of the Commeclia to Dante. 
The last day of his dining in the refectory, the monks to 
please him, produce a bottle of old Calesian, the pro¬ 
duce of the neighbourhood; a good humoured Bene¬ 
dictine fills his glass; and the Pope says: “ See how 
round and mellow it stands in the glass. It is like good 
old pure Catholicism pressed in the Urbano-vat.” Then 
in one of his playful moods, he adds : “ I see now why 

Benedict fixed on Monte Casino: it is near Cales, 

/ 

praised by Horace for its grape.” Fie then observes : 
“ The jacobin surgeons some fifty years ago, took too 
much blood from you ; you were certainly growing too 

/ 

fat and plethoric; you would have been better for the 


352 


HOR.E 


loss of twelve or fourteen ounces of blood ; but you see 
they took thirty-six, and left you almost lifeless. You 
had formerly one hundred thousand ducats a year, and 
fifty monks—now you have only twenty-five thousand 
ducats, and fifteen inmates. If you had forty thousand 
ducats a year, and fifty brethren, you would have a 
healthy life-blood in you.” He quits the venerable 
Monte Casino, and remains a day at Capua; where he 
desecrates a church dedicated to some obscure saint, 
who crept into a godhead, after the incursions of Attila. 

On his regaining the Vatican, he orders the bad 
frescoes in the library, commemorating certain vanities 
of Braschi, to be effaced ; he orders also certain indecent 
pictures preserved in the library, and sometimes shown 
secretly to strangers, to be destroyed in his presence. 
He says to the librarian : “ As soon as the new St. Peter 
shall be erected in the Basilica, see that the old one, 
a Janus, or Jupiter, I know not w r hich, be stationed in 
the gallery of antiques.” 

Wilhelm Hoffmann, a banker, of Frankfort-on-the- 
Maine, is ushered into the Camera del Papagallo. The 
conversation turned on national debts. u A national 
debt,” says Urbano, “ I apprehend to be a good thing 
for every nation, provided the taxation that pays its in¬ 
terest, press not severely on the resources of any given 
nation. The knowing where to stop, shows the great 


ROMAN JE. 


353 


statist. A public debt, within moderate bounds, tends to 
nourish confidence between the governors and governed; 
and furnishes a good deposit for capital. The Romagna, 
with its present resources, and generally idle character 

of the inhabitants, so inferior in activity to the English, 

• 

cannot, I am persuaded, bear much more than about 
twenty millions of scudi debt. In a nation of such com¬ 
mercial resources and industry as England, if instead of 
her eight hundred million of pounds, she could read the 
same number of scudi in her bank-ledgers, she would, 
paradoxical though it may appear, be better off than if 
she had no debt. Her point of debt-optimism, with 
the duration of her actual commerce and industry, ap¬ 
pears to me to lie somewhere between two hundred and 
two hundred and fifty millions of English pounds. I 
do not see that the American States are better off for 
having expunged their whole debt. Their financial 
system now, is like a clock without a pendulum. I 
want a subscription-loan of three millions of scudi. I 
wish you w r ould negotiate one million, on as good terms 
as possible, for me at Frankfort. The rest, I hope to 
take up at Amsterdam, New York, New Orleans, and 
London.” Hoffman, after half an hour’s interview, 
retires. 

The day after, the fat and merry Cardinal di San 
Luca steps in, and chats for half an hour with the 

2 A 


354 


hoim: 


Pontiff. The conversation turned on phrenology; and 

the Pope praised Dr. Gall, saying, that he was one of 

the most remarkable men of the last century. “ It is 

not true,” he says, “ that craniology strikes a blow at 

spiritualism; for let us imagine a man’s bosses to be as 

• 

untoward as possible relatively to the moral, spiritualism 
steps in, and so modifies or corrects the untoward bumps, 
as to make them, with the grace of God, germinate a fair 
show of cerebral and cardiac fruit. Spiritualism is to these 
untoward bosses what a good breaker in is to restive 
colts. After all, the theory is but as yet vaguely estab¬ 
lished ; though I am inclined to believe in certain data 
respecting it.” The Cardinal had led a gay life, before 
the age of thirty; and the Pope, in one of his bizarre 
moods, says to him, chuckling gutturally: “ A certain 
boss at the nape of a certain Cardinal’s neck, cried 
loudly for St. Peter’s file, to scrape it down ; scraped 
down it was. There is nothing like St. Peter’s file for 
the untoward bumps.” The Cardinal took the pontifical 
joke good-humouredly. 

In the following week, news is brought him of the 
venerable Cardinal Campeggi being at his last gasp. He 
speeds forthwith to his cell, and ministers the sacrament 
of extreme unction himself. 

Several ladies, upwards of one hundred, drawn to 
Rome by that curiosity inherent in the sex, had fre- 


ROMANCE. 355 

quently solicited, in separate parties, an introduction to 
Urbano ; but hitherto in vain. At last, he determined 
on gratifying them with an interview; receiving them 
altogether, the day after the Purification of the Virgin. 
There were some from France, Spain, Germany, England, 
Ireland, and different towns in the two Americas. Among 
them were some grey-bonneted, dry and wet quakeresses, 
from Pennsylvania and New England, thouing and thee- 
ing each other, as they pass through Bernini’s columns. 
About half a dozen of them came up Constantine’s stair¬ 
case, flaunting in pink silks, transparent handkerchiefs 
and stockings, crimson parasols, and satin shoes. They 
were told that their appearance in these dresses would 
be excused. Repulsed, they solicited an introduction 
to the Pontiff, the first day in the succeeding week; 
which is reluctantly granted. They go, however, in 
very decent and sober dresses. “ Ah,” says the Pope, 
as they enter the Camera del Pavone, “ now, ladies, I 

recognize you.” He chats with two or three of the 

/ 

elderly ones, for a few minutes; then preceding them to 
his oratory, gives them there his blessing. Among them, 
were two ladies of the Walpole family in England, to 
whom he says: “ My blessing, good ladies, will do you 
no harm, provided you think me not antichrist.” He 
passes with them through the Lepanto antechamber, and 
taking by the arm an English countess, who he knew 


356 


HORjE 


had led a very luxurious life, he says to her, in French: 
“ Vo us m'avez regale d'une vue de vos mousselines trans- 
parentes, Vautre jour, Madame; en retour, je vais vous 
fair voir mon petit gilet satin e, mon petit gilet saline 
so saying, he pulls up his sleeve, and rubs her delicate 
finger over his horse-hair cilix, showing her at the same 
time his wrist, which had been scarred with its friction. 
The ladies retire, staring at each other. 

The next day, the Cardinal of Araceli steps in on 
business. At the close of the audience, the Pope says : 
“ Araceli, my dearest Araceli, take my state-carriage and 
six horses, and go with two of the Canons of St. Peter’s, 
to the monastery of Assisi. You know that by the first 
article of the Council of Lateran, their Francis is no 
longer a saint; he henceforth fills a page in my new 
Libro dei Venerabili. Let him be desecrated, with the 
same ceremonies which I have observed at Rome; and 
re-consecrate the monastery to the Holy Trinity. You 
will return, I hope, in about a week.” 

The next day, the Duke of Terramagra is ushered 
into the Pope’s chamber. He begins by muttering some 
phrases on the hardship of being stripped of his title, 
and of being forced to put up with that of onorabile. 
The Pontiff, rather sharply, says in reply: “ Duca e non 
onorabile, all that you have to do is to quit Rome; since 
you cannot digest the old proverb,‘ fare in Roma, come 


ROMANCE. 


357 


fanno in Roma" Live, if you please, in Vienna, Paris, 
or London; and carry your Terramagra title with you. 
Go rather to Philadelphia or New York ; and there learn 
which of the two titles is the preferable.” 

The Duke retires, muttering sotto voce execrations of 
the Pontiff, as he passes through the Lepanto ante- 
chamber. The Pope turning to the Cardinal di San 
Pietro , who happened to be near, says: “ Here, Cardi¬ 
nal, is a man, who cannot trace the word duca to its 
Latin root; if he could, he might understand that 
though the title would suit a Caesar Borgia, or a Cas- 
truccio Castracani, it cannot him, especially in our age. 
It is as much as he can do to scrape from his estate, five 
thousand scndi per annum. A dukeling, with merely 
that amount of property, and not able from his position, 
to signalize himself in war, becomes an object of irony 
and sarcasm to his enemies. It would take me ten 
years to hammer that truth into his skull; and ten more, 
to prove to him, that in stripping him of his title, circum¬ 
stanced as he is, I shew myself his best friend. Cardi¬ 
nal, am I not in the position of a physician to a hospital 
for sick children, who, going round the wards, and minis¬ 
tering the doses, eventually to cure, and perhaps to 
save, gets nothing for his pains, but squeaks, squalls, 
wry faces, and contortions ?” 

At a levee in the following week, Furio Camillo 


358 


IIORil 


Frenzi, originally a man of considerable property at 
Turin, but for many years wholly immersed in cliy- 
mistry and galvanism, is introduced to Urbano. About 
a hundred hairs rose in bristles from his scalp. His 
eye-lashes, whiskers, and eye-brows, had been blown 
off by explosions in his laboratory; his hands were 
begrimed with chymical manipulations ; his face was 
ghastly; and the insides of his eye-lids were turned 
outwards. His card of address was followed by near 
twenty letters of the alphabet, designating nearly as 
many learned societies of which he was member. He 
had submitted to a lingering death about five hundred 
animals, consisting of frogs, lizards, chickens, kittens, 
and puppies. If the galvanic battery played w T ith full 
effect on their palpitating limbs, he would leap about, 
and cry in ecstasy: Bellissimo ! Tut to e galvanismo 
nel sistema—Idtlio e it galvanismo. Of the school of 
Voltaire, as well as of Volta, he w r as a great enemy of 
the church ; and dealt largely in sarcasms against it. 
He in consequence hesitated whether or not he should 
go to the Vatican; but aw^are of the Pontiff’s general 
respect for talents, (and Frenzi felt sure of the highest) 
he determined to go thither; anticipating if not a snuff¬ 
box, at least a compliment from the Pope; for he had 
discovered a sort of calcinated substance, by applying 
the blow-pipe to a pudding composed of flour, pulverised 


ROMANCE. 359 

pudding-stone, putty, zinc, and copper filings. This 
substance he called a new metal; which he dignified 
with the title, Puddinasium. He had also applied the 
blow-pipe to another paste, the chief ingredients of 
which were the pulverised bones of toes of monkeys, 
from the Chimpanzee, to the little green one of the 
river of the Amazons; and this new metal he styled 
Toasium. The Pope, to whom by repute, he was well- 
known, on receiving his name from his chamberlain, 
without rising from his seat, and in a slow and cold- 
drawn voice, says to Frenzi: “ Are you come to Rome 
to apply your galvanic batteries to my great toe ?” The 
Pope than rising, and shouldering Frenzi, turns to an 
individual, of the Intramini family of Lucca, of no pre¬ 
tensions to talent of any sort, but remarkable for the 
suavity of his temper, and elegance of manners. With 
him, he converses with great kindness, for a long half 
hour. At the same audience, Ivan Sherbatov, a bearded 
Protopapa of Moscow, is introduced. He is accom¬ 
panied by Demetrio Nicolopolo, of Smyrna, a learned 
monk of Mount Athos. Sherbatov is the bearer of a 
complimentary letter from the chief ecclesiastical func¬ 
tionaries of Russia. They are both received with great 
cordiality by the Pontiff*. During the interview, the 
conversation turning on the Greek church, the Pope 
says : “ I always cherished a veneration for your eccle- 


UORiE 


360 

siastical establishment. The difference of your dogmas, 
and our own, appears to me, only to involve subordinate 
particulars. As for your prayers, your ceremonies, and 
your vestures, they are in some points, superior to our 
own. Your priests, protopapa, are generally speaking 
more respectable than the Catholic; they often preach 
more eloquently, and perform their other functions with 
more simplicity of heart.” Sherbatov, after receiving 
from the Pope a Testament, which had long been in the 
monastery of the Apocalypse at Patmos, retires with his 
companion. 

\ 

Urbano, pacing the Loggie of Raphael a few days 
after, meets Karl Jablonski of Warsaw, a brother of the 
archbishop of that city, and says : “ Well, Mr. Jablon¬ 
ski, has your brother yet desecrated Casimir and Sta¬ 
nislaus, Kings of Poland, pursuant to the tenour of the 
Council of Lateran ? They may, perhaps, though I am 
by no means sure, fill a page in my new Libro dei 
Venerabili. “ Not yet, Santo Padre” replies Jablonski. 
“Not yet? not yet? not yet?” retorts Urbano, with 
some asperity. 

The agitations of the Pontiff are much increased 
by the arrival of three Neapolitan priests at Rome, 
deprecating the desecration of Filippo Neri, and recon¬ 
secration of his church to the Holy Trinity. They fall 
on their knees before him, saying: “ Era il nostro Dio , 


ROMANCE. 


361 


^7 nostro Dio , Santo Padre” To whom, then first 
incensed, the Pope replied: “ Know you not that he 
has been stripped both of his sanctity and churches ? 
Has he not his full recompense by being inscribed in 
my new Libro dei Venerabili ? No more of your 
whining. If you object to the acts of the Council of 
Lateran, renounce your profession, like men of con¬ 
science. I’ll take care you shall not starve, by giving 
you pensions equivalent to your ecclesiastical. You 
hesitate then to bow to the Council ? Erect in your 
private houses an oratory to your god Neri; kneel before 
his effigy seven hours a day. Say not that Giovanni 
Benincasa hinders you from so doing.” 

The Milanese had been for some time in considerable 
ferment, in consequence of the edicts of Urbano. The 
desecration of Ambrose in the capital, and his in¬ 
scription in the new Libro dei Venerabili , his proper 
station, creates some heart-burnings. Arona, Como, 
and Bergamo, are much agitated by the Borromeist, and 
anti-Borromeist parties. Of the latter, many very 
strong in favour of the Pope, even proposed the removal 
of the great statue of Carlo Borromeo at Arona, ex¬ 
claiming : “ Let it be melted down—is Carlo Borromeo 
to be the eternal deity of the Milanese ?” The more 
superstitious, who had been taught to lisp the words, 
San Carlo , San Car lino, and but little else, from their 


362 


HORiE 


childhood, prognosticate nothing but cholera, fevers, fire, 
and famine, from the decisions of the Council of Lateran. 
One of these bigots posts from Bergamo to Rome; 
meets the Pontiff walking alone in Bernini’s colon¬ 
nade ; and expostulates violently with him, against the 
decree of the Council, which strips Borromeo of his 
sanctity. Urbano, who had been harassed all the 
morning with business, eyeing him with stern irony, 
says : “ How miserable is it for the Council of Lateran 
to differ in opinion from Carlo Zanni of Bergamo, the 
illustrious, the pious, the great, the infallible !” These 
schisms much vex the Pope; and he writes an auto¬ 
graph to the Rev. Carlo Grimani, a sensible canon of 
the Duomo of Milan, stating, that if the superior priests 
determine on performing their duties conscientiously, 
these disturbances must soon give w T ay to reason and 
reflection. He adds, that the tomb of Carlo Borromeo 
ought to continue to be respected, as it always has been, 
and deservedly, by all Catholics, and many Protestants; 
but that he will hear of no more lights burning before 
it, no holiday in his honour; no prayers said before it. 
Ci When,” he adds, “ my Milanese flock, whom as their 
chief pastor, I ought to love, and do love, wdsh to say 
their prayers, let them resort to the high altar of their 
beautiful Duomo, or to those of the other churches.” 
The acts of the Council are carried into effect with but 


ROMANCE. 


303 


lew obstacles, in the intellectual cities of Verona, Vicenza, 
and Mantua; but at the desecration of San Georgio 
Maggiore at Venice, and reconsecration of the church to 
the Spiriio Santo , some gondoliers raise loud murmurs, 
and brandishing knives, cry : “ Quei scelerati cercano 
di sterminare Venezia .” Sharp stiletto-cuts are given 
and received by certain fanatics, near San Giacomo in 
Rialto. At Parma and Modena some disturbances 
occur; throughout the Piedmontese, diversities of opi¬ 
nion, but unaccompanied by disorders, are loudly ex¬ 
pressed. But at Padua, a dreadful ferment takes place 
at the desecration of Giustina, compelled to make way 
for the Santo Salvatore. This was fomented by the 
Cardinal di San Marco , a native of Padua, and the 
professed and inveterate enemy of the Pope. There was 
one Francesco Diruppi, of the lowest class of priests; 
but gifted with some natural talents. This man the 
Cardinal suborned to preach openly against the decrees 

of Urbano. He attracts a great assembly of the lower 

% 

classes of Paduans in the square of the statues. And 
after fulminating for two hours and more, against the 
Pope, he closes his anathema with these words : “ Volete 
sapere , miei cari fratelli , quali saranno le calamitd che 
accaderanno alia nostra bella Italia f Veo Varia 
rimbrunirsiy manifestando la colera d? Iddio. Ecco 
Venezia , quell antica dominante , sottomersa nelle onde 


364 


LI O Rifc 


delV Adriatico! ecco questa antichissima e veneratis- 
sima universitd, la madre di lanti bei ingegni, brucciata 
dai lampi del cielo! Che diverrd Milano ? Un 
sepolcro di cadaveri, una massa di ceneri. E perche ? 
Per che quel mostro in Jigura papale, ha cacciato il 
divino, che dico ? il divinissimo Santo Carlo Borromeo 
da suoi tempj. Credete miei fratelli, che questo e 
Uitto f Non e ancora il cominciamento dei mali. Ecco il 
nostro santissimo Antonio, con suo innocentissimo porco, 
ecco la nostra diva, la nostra santissima protettrice, 
Giustina, cacciati, come diavoli, pel solo atto di quel 
mostro, dai loro santuarj ! Che dobbiamo aspettare, 
miei carissimi fratelli, dalV impietd di questo papuccio? 
Ecco i vostri padri, le vostre madri, i vostri fanciulli, 
senza testa, senza cuore. Il viaggiatore girando nel 
Valdarno, sclamerd: ‘ Dov'e Firenze V Che diverrd 
Roma se stessa ? In tre mesi da qui, non ne sard 
lasciata unapietra sulV altra. Ecco la rabbia, la fame, 
la cholera, le famine, in ogni citta d* Italia / Ecco 
il Vesuvio, ed il Mongibello vomitando tutti due, i 
demonj d? inferno, per centinaje, per miliaje /” These, 
and other inflammatory sentences, create much tumult in 
Padua; and several tragic consequences ensue, which the 
necessary interference of the military, however, quells. 
The intelligence from Padua sadly disturbs the Pontiff; 
out on hearing it, he preserves a noble calmness, remark- 


ROMANCE. 


365 


ing : “ Questo 6 solamente una piccola borrasca, che 
accompagna molie volte i cangiamenti delV atmosfera .” 
Soon after, the Cardinal di San Marco dies of the 
morbus pediculosus; and Diruppi, who had worked his 
brain to a phrenzy, is sent to a lunatic asylum. 

At Arpino, the Pope’s birth-place, every thing passes 
off quietly. Not so at Aquino; where Doctor Thomas 
Aquinas, certainly a learned and pious man, had so im¬ 
pressed the citizens with his unalienable right to a god- 
ship, that a serious ferment ensues at his desecration. 

A violent affray takes place at Foggia, in Apulia; 
where a bevy of rioters, spurred on by fanatical old 
women and ignorant priests, carry the Pope about in 
effigy, surrounded by a cere-cloth, on which are painted 
black devils, emerging from red and yellow flames. The 
old women pelt it with rotten olives and garbage; and 
the effigy is afterwards committed to the flames, amid 
the hoots of, “ Ahi maladetto , ahi brutta sporcheria 
d y inferno /” But the Marquis of Caraccioli, a firm 
friend of the Pontiff’s, and minister at Naples, is no 
sooner apprised of the tumult, than he sends five hun¬ 
dred troops, by forced marches, to Foggia; traces the 
cause of the riot to its true authors, makes a prompt ex- 
ample of them, and restores tranquillity to the city. 

A more tragic affair occurs at Macerata, in the march 
of Ancona; where a tumult, instigated by similar 


366 


HOK^E 


causes, gains such a height, that Captain Ornano, who 
was stationed there with two companies of the second 
regiment of foot, was compelled to interfere; and in 
rather too precipitate a zeal for the Pontiff’s service, 
gave the word, £c Fire /” which brought to the ground 
seventeen of the rioters, and wounded about thirty others. 
The news afflicts the Pontiff; but he uttered not a word 
of reproach against Ornano. The very day that he re¬ 
ceived this news, he sends orders to the authorities of 
Civita Castellana, Narni, Terni, Teramo, Popoli, Ascoli, 
and Peati, to carry into effect without delay, the edicts 
of the Council of Lateran. They are, shortly after, car¬ 
ried into execution, without further opposition, at Padua; 
and Signora Giustina is made to walk quietly out of that 
sanctuary, which she had so snugly enjoyed for many 
centuries; and which it w’as believed she would continue 
to enjoy in scecula sceculorum. The opposition of a few 
old women of either sex excepted, every thing passes 
off quietly at Florence, the talented Arezzo, Leghorn, 
Pisa, and the other Etrurian towns. At Genoa, and three 
of the towns on the two riviere , some sinister events 
occur. At the village which gave birth to Columbus, a 
priest received a stiletto-cut, given by a fanatical old 
woman, as he was desecrating some saint, bedaubed 
with the absurdest legends. The tumults, however, are 
soon quelled, by the active interference of the more en- 


ROMANCE. 367 

lightened priests, who had entered zealously into the 
views of Urbano. Rosa, at Viterbo, Bernardino, at 
Aquila, Nicandro, at Venafro, and Catharine, at Sienna, 
struck by the Lateran-bolts, reel to and fro in their 
sanctuaries. 

Gottlieb Hartmann, a learned and enlightened Canon 
of the cathedral of St. Stephen’s, at Vienna, arrives at 
Rome, and is ushered into the Camera del Papagallo. 
“ Well, my good Hartmann,” quoth Urbano, “ pursuant 
to the acts of the Council of Lateran, I suggested to you 
several months ago, by letter, my wish, that your venera¬ 
ble cathedral, after being desecrated, should, with due 
solemnities, be re-consecrated to the Holy Trinity; and 
that the magnificent church in the Boulevards, hitherto 
dedicated to Signor Carlo Borromeo, should be re-con¬ 
secrated, either to the blessed Virgin, or the Saviour, as 
the majority of your venerable colleagues might option; 
also that the other churches, not in unison with the dis¬ 
positions of the Council, should be made to harmonise 
with them.” “ The acts of the Council have been the 
subject of deep meditation, and varieties of opinion, 
among the church functionaries of Austria and Hungary, 
Santo Padre” retorts Hartmann ; “ the general belief is, 
that they will be finally acquiesced to by the great ma¬ 
jority of the enlightened priests; but I cannot flatter 
you with any proofs of this majority being ascertained.” 


368 


IIORiE 


“And what is the cause of the delay, my good Hart¬ 
mann ?” replies the Pope; “ Is not Stephen ousted from 
his sanctity, by the act of the Council of Lateran? Has 
he not at last found, in the new Libro dei Verierobili, 
his proper station ? You must be aware that it was 
necessary for the Council to draw a strictly limiting line. 
Had only a very few martyrs, for about a century after 
our Saviour, obtained the palm of sanctification, the 
labours of the Council might perhaps have been deemed 
superfluous. But what torrents of abuses have been 
poured into the Church, century after century, by most 
of my predecessors, who opened the sacred portals to 
hundreds of godlings, the effect of whom is, and has 
been, to divert otherwise well-disposed spirits, from the 
veneration of the finer essences of Catholicism. We 
have left in a long distance behind, the spirits of the 
tenth and twelfth centuries. If every martyr is to reap 
an in scecula sceculorum sanctification, for having braved 
two minutes’ agony, all the powers of Christendom should 
compel their subjects to work night and day at their 
churches, shrines, pictures, and statues. Thank God, 
we have had our eyes, at last, couched in the Vatican, 
as I hope your’s are in Vienna.” Without replying to 
the Pontiff, Hartmann retires. 

Urbano holds this year three conferences in the 
sacristy of St. Peter’s, touching the melioration of the 


KOMAN^E. 


369 


ecclesiastical vestures. A portfolio of at least five hun¬ 
dred representations of them throughout Christendom, is 
laid before him. He says to the dignitaries with him : 
u I hold, that in point of simple grandeur, no vestures 
excel those of the Greek church. Our own, though 
from their antiquity they naturally inspire some respect, 
are of marked inferiority, both as to form and effect. I 
could never see any thing dignified in those buckram or 
pasteboard robes, covered with satin, and bedaubed with 
filagree work in gold; the hood beating down the priest’s 
head, and effectually preventing him from raising it.” 
He proposes to the assembly, the adoption of new ves¬ 
tures, the general character of which should resemble 
those of the Greek church; but with some distinctions, 
strongly, yet simply marked. At the last of these meet¬ 
ings, he selects two musical scores, expressing new and 
cheerful cariglioni , to be rung on the greater festivals. 

The Pontiff requiring a few days’ change of scene and 
air, goes to Castel Gandolfo, with the Cardinal di San 
Matteo , a man of superior refinement and intelligence. 
They enter together the papal study, on the mantle-piece 
of which, appear two finely-executed busts of Napoleon 
and the Duke of Wellington. “ Well, Cardinal,” says 
the Pope, “ I hope you approve of my busts.” “ They 
are well cut, excellently well cut,” retorted the Cardinal. 
The Pontiff then approaching the mantle-piece, and lay- 


370 


HOR^E 


ing his hand on the bust of Napoleon, observes: “ This 
was incontestably the greatest of all the Ghibelline 
generals. Put all together that have agitated Italy from 
the thirteenth century, to the present hour, and you will 
find he outweighs them all. From the days that the 
Ghibelline and Guelph factions first shook their gory 
heads at Rome, no sword shines with such flaming and 
terrible glare, as that unscabbarded by Napoleon. During 
the whole of his extraordinary career, he gave but too 
convincing proofs of his hostility to the church ; yes; he 
sneered at her continually, with the irony of Voltaire, 
with the cold sarcasms of Diderot; yes: he snarled at 
her from his military lair, come un t'risto cane Ghibellino , 
un tristissimo cane Ghibellino. But stop: had he not, 
my dear Cardinal, great cause for so doing ? Might not 
his acute mind, though nearly engrossed with military 
affairs, have perceived that abuses swarmed in the 
church; that Roma , swollen with corrupt blood, required 
the lancet to be thrust deep into her main artery, by this 
Ghibelline surgeon ? Might not indignation at our 
having so long granted indulgences, often too for money; 
at our spreading godlings throughout either hemisphere, 
with their bones to be kissed, in splendid churches 
erected to their glory; might not, I say, these, as well 
as other abuses, have stirred in Napoleon a noble bile ? 
Might not that vile cringing to despots, which for so 


ROMANCE. 


371 


long a period lias characterised the Vatican, have angered 
the spirit of Napoleon? Were these the motives of his 
hostility to mother church ? If it can be proved that 
they were, which I fear they cannot be, I am compelled 
to rank him high in my estimation, and to kiss his rod, 
not only in his military capacity, but also in his philo- 
sophico-religious views. Still I am in doubt whether or 
no his mind vtfas capable of this elevation: and yet I 
sometimes think it was; for though he sneered at us 
with his tongue, and flagellated us with his sword, 
during his eventful life; though he was aware, as well 
as myself, that the rock of St. Peter was covered with 
foul and parasitical weeds; yet it is certain that he died 
a true son of the church, all Ghibelline as he was. Yes, 
on the rock of St. Helena, he clung to the rock of St. 
Peter.” The Pontiff then turning to the bust of Welling¬ 
ton, and laying his right hand thereupon, says to the 
Cardinal: “ This was also the greatest of the Guelph 
generals, and the most formidable rival of the other. 
His moral principle was, I think, superior generally to 
that of Napoleon. As for his career of arms, the con¬ 
sideration of all the particulars they embrace, lies out of 
my sphere; consequently, I am incompetent to decide 
thereupon; but whether he was equal to or less than 
Napoleon, in his military career, he shewed himself 
lamentably his inferior, in his apparent indifference to 


372 


IfOR/E 


the true church. The Guelphs from their earliest epoch, 
though several of them were sad rogues, adhered to the 
church, and with professed zeal for her welfare. Were 
I but a private individual, I should feel that I have no 
right to sound the religious sentiments of this great 
Guelph general; but as head of the original church, and 
successor of St. Peter, howsoever unworthy, I feel that 
I have that right. It would be absurd to imagine that 
this illustrious Duke could, in his extended military 
career, find time to prosecute deep theological studies ; 
yet, my dear Cardinal, I ask, how is it possible for a 
man of discrimination, to prefer the ecclesiastical supre¬ 
macy of the eighth Henry of England, to that of St. 
Peter ? I know it may be said that he did not organize 
the Henrician hierarchy; he assuredly did not; but still 
he must be contemplated as its most strenuous assertor; 
and as such he will be considered by posterity. Ah, 
my dear Cardinal, how deeply is this to be regretted ! 
Nothing appears to me to be wanting to his renown, but 
to efface that unction of the eighth Henry, wherewith 
he came smeared into this world. Had I lived twenty 
years before this time, and had he witnessed the acts of 
my Council of Lateran, I flatter myself with the per¬ 
suasion, that he might have been induced, like nearly 
all the other Guelph generals, to consent to being 
hurdled into Saint Peter’s fold. Can I, then, severely 


llOMANiE. 


873 


blame him? Impossible, in the eyes of sense and rea¬ 
son ; aware, perhaps, as he was, like myself, of the dross 
that obscured and fouled, for so long a period, the pure 
ore of Catholicism. Still, it is much to be regretted that, 
in this point, and perhaps in this alone, he shews himself 
inferior to his great Ghibelline rival; who clung in his 
last moments to the rock of St. Peter, though he knew 
it required cleansing. I and the Council of Lateran, are 
the accidents resulting from the contentions of these 
warriors. We are both the flashes of fire elicited from 
the clash of their two swords; they neither of them bar¬ 
gained for our appearance; yet here we both are.” 

The next morning, the Pope, walking with Custom 
his chaplain, meets the Cardinal on the terrace of Castel 
Gandolfo, and says to him : “ I understand that one of 
the English princes was a great reader of the bible. I 
wish he had pointed out for our edification here at Rome, 
that passage which authorises the superior claims of the 
eighth Henry to the supremacy of the church, above 
those of St. Peter. However, all attentive observers 
cannot fail to remark, that his sanctity has of late been 
sensibly on the wane; and that the thinking spirits in 

the two islands at last suspect, that three centuries of 

• 

hierarchy are more than enough for the old wife-butcher.” 

Continuing his talk, he adds: “ I should like also to 
be informed on what grounds, hierarchess Elizabeth of 


374 


HOR,E 


England, threw in the back ground the sanctity attached 
to the Blessed Virgin, which time immemorial has been 
reputed one of the finer essences of Christianity ; which 
is deemed by the best spirits, the venerable type of the 
incarnate principle; which addresses both the intelli¬ 
gence and imagination, in an irresistible manner; which 
incorporating the doctrine of pure love, tends so emi¬ 
nently to the perfection of the female character. The 
rejection, or to speak more exactly, the slighting of this 
important dogma of old Catholicism, squared completely 
with that dry starchness of spirit, which, through life, 
characterised Elizabeth of England. Had she told her 
subjects, that the sale of indulgences, and the kissing of 
saints’ bones, were a fond thing , and limited her restric¬ 
tions to those alone, in spite of her schism, I should 
cherish much regard for her memory.”—He touches the 
acts of the Council of Lateran. “ I have not,” he says, 
“ wounded the trunk of the tree of religion; I have only 
lopped off its fungous excrescences, and supernumerary 
branches. The more I weigh what has been done by 
the Council, the more I am persuaded, that it has thereby 
cicatrised the wounds of Catholicism. One of the thou¬ 
sand incentives of the French Revolution, was the in¬ 
dignation felt by many enlightened spirits, at that 
profuse sanctification, or rather deification, of more or 
less worthy individuals, so long adopted, and so widely 


♦ ROMANCE. 


375 


extended by the Vatican. When a person has been 
sanctified by the Sacred College; when he has churches 
and chapels to his name; when his relics are enshrined, 
and his bones kissed; when sermons are often preached 
to listening congregations, filled with panegyrics of his 
virtues; what, Cardinal, has he less than deification ? 
Let pedants split hairs of distinction as long as they 
please, the signification of these two terms is the same.—- 
Are not the words Sanctus and Divus promiscuously 
engraved on the frieses of the churches throughout Italy ? 
Now the fullest tension of the human intelligence cannot 
confer a higher point of glory than this. Put all the 
stars, orders, titles, pensions, estates, and palaces, that 
have been given in recompense, in one scale, and sanc¬ 
tification, with churches and shrines, in the other, and 
the former will kick the beam, like grains of dust in the 
balance. The Council has at last discovered that this 
is much too high a prerogative for any church to exer¬ 
cise ; and that were it to continue, it could not obtain ; 
owing to such a system causing a revulsion in spirits, 
daily more enlightened, through the multiplication of 
books, schools, and colleges. To attract round Catholi¬ 
cism, in this more enlightened age, an enereased venera¬ 
tion, it is necessary to concentrate that veneration on 
fewer foci. With this view, Mary Magdalene, Anne, 
Elizabeth, Joseph, and others, who have hitherto had 


376 


i roller. 


churches, altars, and even festival days in their honour, 
stripped of their sanctity by the Council of Lateran, are 
inscribed in the first pages of my new Libro dei Vene - 
rabili , without any days set apart to their service. And 
in this, the Council, in my opinion, has shewn the most 
delicate judgment. For if these, as well as many others, 
are to enjoy sanctification, churches, and shrines, as 
they hitherto have done, where can you stop ? You 
must by the same rule, sanctify all others, who perform 
very subordinate parts in the gospel. By the same rule, 
you must sanctify, and give churches to all the indi¬ 
viduals composing the genealogy of Christ: to the good 
thief, the good centurion, and I know not how many 
others, as this Vatican of our’s has done, for so long a 
period, with so little discrimination, with often so little 
a sense of the great importance of these acts. Let us 
suppose that in Baltimore, or New Orleans, a priest, 
pursuant to the old system of the Vatican, were to lay 
the first stone of a new church to Saint Thomas of Can¬ 
terbury, or Saint Aignan of Orleans; by so doing, lie 
would act in perfect unison with the old established 
system. But in the present century, can any sanctified 
respect be shewn by Catholics of the new world, to one, 
who though he may lay claim to venerability, from the 
horrible death lie suffered at the altar, shewed sometimes 
an obstinate spirit; or to the other, whose merit was 


ROMANCE. 


377 


having shown courage, and faced death, at the head of 
his flock, during the invasion of Attila ? The day for 
the consecration of churches to such individuals as above, 
is gone by. In rectifying these abuses, and such, both 
Catholics and Protestants must call them, observe, my 
dear Cardinal, what judgment the Council has displayed. 
It has thereby concentrated a higher sanctity on the 
three persons of the Trinity; it has preserved entire the 
sanctity of the Blessed Virgin; it has preserved the 
sanctity of the apostles, of the evangelists, and of St. 
John the Baptist; these last forming, as it were, the 
external buttresses of the Catholic temple, and conse¬ 
quently possessing an inferior grade of sanctity , to that 
of the three persons of the Holy Trinity, and to that of 
the Blessed Virgin. And these, I assert, in the face of 
the world, to be the primary bases of true Catholicism. 
And here the Council of Lateran wisely stops. It re¬ 
cognises for the future no other saints. We count, 
if I remember right, nearly two thousand of these 
saints, or godlings ; many of whom have, till the date 
of the French revolution, been in undisturbed pos¬ 
session of churches, chapels-, and altars. I know that 
some of these were beings of exalted piety; several nobly 
suffered martyrdom in their sacred vocation ; but on the 
other hand, it must be confessed that several were not 
only of equivocal, but of bad reputation. Respecting 


378 


HORiE 


the saintships of these last, there can be but one 

opinion. I and the Council of Lateran go further, and 

\ 

contend, that even for those of the highest merit, saint- 
ships with churches and altars ,itiscecula sceculoram , must 
be said to outrage the soundest religious feelings; more 
especially in this enlightened age. The compositors of 
my new Libro dei Venerabili are, you know, busied with 
submitting to a rigorous scrutiny the merits of those in¬ 
dividuals, who in the dark ages, have obtained such 
high and unjustifiable prerogatives. Many of them, I 
am persuaded, will not even be judged worthy of having 
their names inscribed in my new Libro dei Venerabili . 
To show how little the process of the old sanctification 
harmonises with the religious views of the present age, 
I was reading, the other day, Alban Butler’s Lives of the 
Saints; and found among them, the sister of Louis IX. 
And what were this lady’s high merits ? Knitting 
woollens, and making clothes for the poor, united indeed 
to a sense of piety; qualifications which hundreds of 
ladies in the present day, practise to amuse their long 
winter evenings. Several persons, among them some 
Catholics, have strongly suspected that the Irish Saint 
Patrick never existed; and that he was nothing more 
than an ecclesiastical personification of Attila; whose 
military executions gave rise to the creation of many 
bastard saints, who crept into godships, which they 


ROMANCE. 


37 *) 


enjoyed unmolested, till the French Revolution. Cardi¬ 
nal, we live in times, wherein that highest of all prero¬ 
gatives, sanctification, is, and will be more and more 
finely sifted daily. It will not do, as before the French 
Revolution, to incase in silver and jewels, the bones of 
some being, who, if not imaginary, is frequently most 
obscure as to existence and merits; and to drive villagers 
by tens and by hundreds, to rub their noses against his 
bones. The why and ivlierefore will be more sharply 
applied to these questions than ever. Not only Dupuis, 
from whose opinions I in the main dissent, but also very 
many Protestants, and some of our own church, believe 
that the names of divers saints in our calendar are of 
more than doubtful authority, both as to existence and 
merits. But patience, Cardinal, patience. The twenty- 
five individuals, whom I have selected for the arduous 
task of making our sacred calendar, without vulnerating 
Catholicism, harmonise with the intellectual progress 
of the present times, I have the best reasons to think are 
choice spirits. They have travelled, and read much, and 
are good linguists. I hope their labours will be finished 
in a few months. The English, who pretend to be such 
active reformers, may as well set about stripping their 
Giles, Olave, King of Norway, Neot, Chad, Botolph, 
Bride, Pancras, and others, of their too long arrogated 
sanctities.” He next touches the new elective arrange- 


380 


HORJE 


ment for the nomination of future Pontiffs, and says: 
“ The Protestants will now allow that the Vatican can 
at last trace the word Catholic to its Greek roots, ex¬ 
tending as my new act does, the privilege of belonging to 
the electoral college, to ecclesiastics of any nation pro¬ 
fessing Catholicism; the Council having decreed that 
the number of foreign candidates shall for the future, be 
on a par with those of Italy. So that we may hope to 
see from time to time, either a native of France, England, 
either America, and other Catholic countries, fill with 
dignity the chair of St. Peter. Formerly the Vatican 
was much more liberal on this point, than during the 
last three centuries. But there has long existed a 
narrow presumptuous spirit in this Vatican of our’s, 
which confines the tiara to Italian brows; which limits 
all excellence, both intellectual and moral, to this side 
the Alps. Now, Cardinal, asking you some indulgence 
for my tramontane dulness, I am not always certain 
of our prior claims to the former; and with regard to 
the latter, I profess myself a sad unbeliever.” 

He then says, with great emotion : “ If Rome means to 
continue, as she has been since the fall of the eastern em¬ 
pire, the grand visible spiritual beacon, she must, as 
through my Council of Lateran I hope she has done, 
recaulk the bark of St. Peter, and close its chinks w ith a 

strong pitch of sincerity. Very much must depend on the 


ROMANCE. 


381 


selection of worthy men with a liberal and enlightened 
stretch of soul, for the filling of the new electoral college 
for the nomination of the Pope. The same principle 
should be applied to the filling of the Cardinalates; but it 
need not be so tightly braced, in reference at least to the 
junior Cardinals. Vain are the speculations of theorists, 
who think and maintain, that Rome can easily adopt a 
different system of government, from what she has so 
long been accustomed to. Nations, like individuals, are 
creatures of habit. This axiom applies eminently to 
Rome. If she does not make her religious system 
square better with the increased intellect of the age, 
sink down she must, and become a bye-word among 
the nations. On all her monuments will appear engraved 
the energetic diction of the prophet: “ She who had 
strong rods for the sceptres of them that hare rule , 
is plucked up , and cast down to the ground. And a 
fire is gone out of a rod of her branches , which hath 
devoured her fruit; so that she hath no strong rod to 
he a sceptre to rule. This is a lamentation , and shall 
he for a lamentation .” But if she sincerely applies the 
Lateran-salve to her gangrened ulcers, with the grace of 
God, she will enjoy a better state of health than hereto¬ 
fore, enhance that venerability which always hovers 
round her, and spread more efficaciously than of old, the 
healing waters of the Gospel from her sacred fonts.” 


382 


HORiE 


The Pope continues dicussing these questions with 
the Cardinal, on the terrace of Castel Gandolfo, till 
the sun reaching the chambers of the West, turns into 
molten gold the azure of the Tuscan. 

Returning to the Vatican, Juan Forez, Jorge Nunez, 
and Pablo Marquez, three bare-footed hermits of Mon- 
serrat, who had come to Rome from pious motives, visit 
the Pontiff. He gives them an excellent dinner, and 
seasons his urbanities with good humour. On taking 
leave of them, he says: “ I always had a respect for the 
hermits of Monserrat; they embraced poverty, and 
despised the temptations of the world in good earnest; 
unlike the major part of the Benedictines, and several 
other orders, who were often money-making and luxu¬ 
rious.” He adds with his usual guttural chuckle: “ I 
dare say though, you could count a scurvy fellow or two 
among you.” The hermits retire, having received the 
Pope’s blessing. 

Towards the close of the year, a legate is sent to 
Spain. The acts of the Council of Lateran had long 
before reached Toledo; where they had roused most 
vehement discussions. Parties ran high at first, against 
the decrees of the Pope, but were much softened down 
by the exertions of the archbishop, a learned man, and 
devoted to the Pontiff. The legate after some con¬ 
ferences with the archbishop, proceeds through Madrid, 


ROMANCE. 


383 


to the august monastery of the Escurial; where he 
arrives on an October evening. A violent hurricane 
was sweeping clown the precipices of the Guadarrama 
mountains, as the legate descended from his carriage; 
he passes through the splendid corridors, where the wind 
was whistling, as through a hundred seolian harps; he 
raises his eyes with admiration to those walls, adorned 
with the highest efforts of Raphael, Titian, Vandyke, 
Sebastiano del Piombo, Coello, Velasquez, and Murillo; 
his pupils are riveted by the Madonna del Pesce, and 
della Perla, and also by the stupendous conceptions of 
Pellegrino Tebaldi. He visits the magnificent chapel, 
and those mausolea, which enshrine all the grandeur 
of Spain. He dines in the refectory, and after dinner 
informs the monks, that it is the especial wish of the 
Pontiff, that pursuant to the acts of the Council of 
Lateran, San Lorenzo should be desecrated, and that 
their noble monastery should, with all the splendour that 
their sacristy can furnish, be reconsecrated to the Holy 
Trinity. The decrees of the Pope had long before 
penetrated the cloisters of the Escurial, and to them, 
three-fourths and more of the monks had, though with 
some reluctance, acquiesced. But Juan Ibarra, with 
seven others, could never be induced to renounce the 
sanctity of his San Lorenzo; and scarcely had the 
legate communicated the wish of the Pope, than he 


384 


HORiE 


jumped up from his seat, and striking the table violently, 
exclaims: 6( Estoy por siempre Jiel a la voluntad del 
rey nuestro senor , Don Felipe el prudente, fundador 
de ese monasterio then throwing his cowl on the floor, 
and trampling it under foot, with a face pale as ashes, 
he adds : “ No estoy mas monje del Escorial—y asi 
ayudeme Dios and with these words he quits the 
refectory, banging the door with violence. But his 
party were in great measure convinced by the calm 
reasoning of the legate, and three of the superior monks. 
They acquiesce, however, to the change, but with great 
reluctance. 

At Lisbon, Vincent totters in his sanctuaries, de¬ 
serted by his protecting crows. But the decrees of the 
Council create much ferment in the minds of many of 
the professors of the Universities, especially at Coimbra; 
yet it was remarked, that nearly all the opponents of 
Urbano, were men who had passed their grand climac¬ 
teric ; and when the environs of that age are attained or 
overleaped, it is known that any innovation in important 
matters especially, causes a violent revulsion in the 
human fibres, hardening them with an obstinacy, which 
the best arguments, drawn equally from heart and head, 
are for the most part unable to overcome. 

Throughout the peninsula, the decrees of the Council 
obtain with various success. In Madrid, the prejudices 


ROMANS. 


385 


of the lower classes of priests, chiefly illiterate, excite 
some disturbances. At the desecration of Ignacio Loyola, 
the celebrated founder of the order of the Jesuits, in a 
town of Biscay, serious riots occur. At Jaen, Cuenca, and 
Lorca, some assassinations instigated by certain bigots, 
enemies of the Pope, and which take place at the desecra¬ 
tion of three saints, of whom the major part of the inha¬ 
bitants knew nothing, but what they had learned from 
their nurses, determine the dignitaries of Toledo to 
proceed with great caution. At Oviedo, Cadiz, Leon, 
Seville, Carthagena, Valencia, and Malaga, the decrees 
of the Pope meet but with slight opposition. At Sala¬ 
manca and Alcala, very sharp disputes take place; 
though the majority, comprising chiefly individuals who 
had travelled, side heartily with the Pontiff. 

In Elba, the decrees of the Council are carried 
gradually into execution without any serious obstacles. 
At Bastia and Ajaccio, some sinister and tragic acts 
take place. At Cagliari in Sardinia, the military is 
forced to be called out, at the desecration of three or 
four churches, of which as many obscure cowl-bearers 
and bead-counters had long been the presiding deities. 
At Sassari, in the same island, a troop of people headed 
by ignorant priests, rush into the town from the Insane 
Mountains , and stab a priest in the act of desecrating a 
church dedicated to their favourite saint; but of whom 

2 c - 


38<3 


HORjE 


not the least authentic account can be traced even in 
the Vatican. 

In Sicily, at Argiro, the birth-place of Diodorus, 
much perturbation ensues at the desecration of Signor 
Felipe, forced to make way for St. Paul. At Catania, 
Agatha of the Goths surrenders her sanctity to the 
Blessed Virgin ; as does Placido at Messina, to St. 
John the Baptist; but not without bloodshed ; and not 
without the belief of half the citizens, that the whole of 
the regione scoperta of iEtna will be tumbled headlong 
on their towns. Tragic events also occur at the ousting 
of Rosolia, absolute goddess of Palermo, and of Lucy, at 
Syracuse; both to be supplanted by the Holy Trinity, 
pursuant to the tenour of the Council of Lateran. In 
Calatagirone, Lentini, and Castrogiovanni, Girgenti, 
Trapani, Mazzara, and Marsala, it requires the utmost 
activity in the more enlightened priests, to preserve 
order in the execution of the papal decrees. The dire 
volcanoes of ignorance and superstition vomit their 
fetid exhalations from the Lipari isles, and present their 
hideous lavas of opposition to the Council of Lateran. 
There, as in Sicily, much time is required to quiet the 
fermenting spirits. In Yviza and Majorca, the removal 
of the bones of three or four saints, encased in silver, 
and of the existence of which in flesh, the Pope, after 
the most diligent researches in the Vatican, could trace 


ROMANCE. 387 

nothing authentic, occasions serious tumults. But in 
Minorca and Malta, every thing passes off quietly; the 
Pontiff, apprised of which, writes complimentary epistles 
to the chief functionaries of those isles. 

At Paris, and throughout France, the innovations 
introduced into the church by Urbano,meet with various 
results in the religious world. At Nismes, Toulouse, 
Arles, and Dragiugnan, some very untoward ani¬ 
mosities take place, followed up by tragic consequences. 
At Paris, since the church formerly dedicated to Gene¬ 
vieve and her fawn, had been long devoted to laic pur¬ 
poses, the decrees of the Council could not affect their 
building. But the Pope had written an autograph to 
the chief ecclesiastical functionaries in Paris, to the 
intent, that it was his wish, that the church of St. Sul- 
pice, one of the finest in the French capital, after being 
with due solemnity desecrated, should be reconsecrated 
to the Holy Trinity; that St. Eustache should make 
way for St. Mark the evangelist; Saints Gervais and 
Protais, for Saint John ; Doctor Thomas Aquinas, for 
St. Matthew ; Saint Nicaise, for Saint Luke; that since 
Mary Magdalen had been desecrated, and since her 
name had been inscribed in the first pages of the new 
Libro dei Venerabili , her splendid church on the Bou¬ 
levards should with due solemnities, be dedicated to 
the Holy Spirit, or to the Saviour, or to Saint Peter, 


/ 


388 H0R.4; 

as the majority of their opinions may determine; and 
that several others should be new titled, pursuant to the 
tenour of the Council of Lateran. 

The Fauxbourg St. Germain (he too is stripped of 
his temples and godhead) is in an uproar; owing partly 
to the bigotry of Louise and Fran§oise Devieuval, two 
wealthy maiden sisters of late devotees; but formerly 
moving with eclat , in the gay world. Their house is 
the evening rendezvous of all the old school of priests, 
who detested Urbano, and his innovations. At one of 
these parties, Louise, highly rouged, and with a sepul¬ 
chral voice, says to her sister: “ Ah, ma chere, quel 
monstre que ce pape Urbain ! II a desacre noire divin 
Sulpice; depuis ce moment-id, je ri* ai plus de repos; 
rous savez que je porte le portrait de mon Saint , mon 
dieu plutot, peint sur ma tabatiere, par Petitot.—Je 
Vai pay6 deux cents louis; je ne la vendrais pas pour 
tout Vor du monde. II etait pour moi , mon dieu .— 
Oui, ma chere.—Le jour meme de son desacrement , par 
ce mechant pape , fai defrappte d'un coup de rheuma - 
tisme , qui ne m'abandonne plus. Pour sur , la cholera 
va ravager encore tout Paris." “Ah! le monstre!” 
replies Fran^oise, “ et moi aussi je souffre du feu St. 
Antoine , depuis que son infame impUtt ait oU a noire 
Saint Louis ses eglises , et sa diviniUP Ignace Pheli- 
pon, a brisk little Abbe of Rennes, strains every nerve 


ROMAN jE. 389 

at these parties, to throw obloquy against, and pro¬ 
mote hostility to the acts of Urbano, and the Council of 
Lateran. He runs up to Louise, and seizing her by the 
arm, exclaims: “ Soyez 'persuade Madame, de cette 
grande rerite, que noire Pape TJrbain est pire qiCun 
athee. II pretend connaitre d fond le Catholicisme; 
il n'en salt pas deux mots. C'est Vetre le plus pitoyable 
qui s'est jamais place sur le siege de Saint Pierre. 
Alexandre VI. etait un ange en comparaison. II a ose 
eter aux eglises ces os, ces reliques, qui out toujours 
rtpandu un parfum celeste auiour nos autels, et les ames 
pieuses. De plus, il a escamote d mille Saints leurs 
eglises; il fmira par les escamoter au bon Dieu meme. 
N'est ce pas qiCil a chasse de ses eglises, notre divin 
Thomas d’A quin, pour le placer ou ? Dans ce qu ’ il 
appelle son Livre des Venerables. Cest donner le grade 
de lieutenant a un grand gSnSral. N'est ce pas quHl 
a desacrS nos divins Ouen, Omer, Die, Sidpice, Fit, 
Germain, meme, et tant d'autres, qui nous ont toujours 
fourni une consolation complette dans le mallieur ? 
Fallait il dans ce siecle impie, diminuer le nombre 
des Saints de Veglise ? Tout autre pape, tant soit peu 
imbu de veritable pttU, les aurait plutot multiplU par 
centaines. Ah, Madame ! nous ne pouvons trop m&priser 
ce pape TJrbain. O'est un saint devoir 

In spite, however, of these and similar ferments, 


390 


HORM 


» 

stirred by bigotry and ignorance, in the provinces espe¬ 
cially, acquiescence to the edicts of Urbano makes daily 
progress in the civilised cities of Nantes, Tours, Bor¬ 
deaux, Bayonne, Narbonne, Lyons, and Marseilles. 
Marcel, Hilaire, Maurice, Exupery, Ouen, Quentin, 
Apolline, Zory, Pardoux, Symphorien, Remy, together 
with that rigid disciplinarian, Vitus, henceforth left to 
his own dance; and hundreds of others, ejusdem flocci , 
return to that obscurity, wherefrom they ought never to 
have emerged, to scale, at least, the pinnacle of sanctifi¬ 
cation ; followed also by corresponding depreciation, the 
just consequence of having inspired for so long a period, 
an overweening respect, so immeasurably beyond their 
deserts. In the capital, Maistre Roch finds the house 
of his sanctity no longer built upon a rock, but on the 

► 

shifting quicksand of opinion ; and he bids fair to make 
way for St. Paul, pursuant to the tenour of the Council of 
Lateran. Philippe du Roule trembles in his elegant 
sanctuary, and counts the hours, when he will be com¬ 
pelled to make way for one or other of the apostles, or 
evangelists. Maistre Sulpice, known in history as the 
author of the Historia Sacra; in Latinity, as Sulpicius 
Severus; in the moral scale, as a pious and good man; 
is made to walk quietly out of that splendid godship, 
which he had so snugly enjoyed for a long millennium. 
On the frise of his magnificent fane now appear the 


ROMANCE. 


391 


words : “ Sanctissim<B Trinitati sacrum The sanctities 
of Dennis and Martin flutter like rags from their portals. 
The vaulted cloisters of Charlemagne, at Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle, resound with the name of Urbano. At Brussels, 
Ghent, and Antwerp; in the French Flanders, at Lille, 
Tournay, and other towns, the lettered part of the com¬ 
munities bows but with little opposition, to the edicts of 
the Council of Lateran. Gudule staggers in her sanc¬ 
tuary at Brussels; as does Ursula, with her eleven thou¬ 
sand virgins, at Cologne; both about to make way, the 
first, for the Virgin, the latter, for the Holy Trinity. 

Intelligence is transmitted to the Pontiff, that at 
Prague, Leipsic, Ulm, Augsburg, and Dresden, the acts 
of the Council daily gain strength among the thinking 
spirits of those cities, Catholic as well as Protestant. 
The succeeding week, letters are received in the Vatican, 
that confirm the acquiescence of the great majority of 
the educated inhabitants of Lima, Buenos Ayres, Val¬ 
paraiso, Bogota, and Mexico, to the decrees of the 
Pontiff; and shortly after, intelligence to the same effect 
comes from the Canadas. 

The noise of Urbano, both direct and lateral, begins 
to reach England, and to penetrate the fogs and smoke 
of London. It runs hard now with the wife-butcher’s 
hierarchy, in Canterbury and Rochester. The tomb of 
Becket is not so much scorned, as during the last three 


392 


ii oka: 


centuries; and the names of More and Fisher are pro¬ 
nounced with renovated respect. In the capital, in the 
temples, and inns of court, Urbano’s acts are agitated, 
with great varieties of opinion. On a Lord Mayor’s day, 
John Tomkins, the newly elected Mayor, gives a ban¬ 
quet in the Egyptian Hall. He had found time to 
devote some hours to ecclesiastical history, sufficient to 
enable him to apply a certain judgment to the acts of 
the Pontiff. On the removal of the cloth, he gives, with 
great courage, and to the surprise of three-fourths of his 
guests, this toast: “ Pope Urban the Ninth ! and God 
bless him !" His words excite murmurs through the 
major part of the assembly. Thomas Scudamore, a 
Canon of St. Paul’s, and inveterate hater of Catholicism, 
rising from his seat, and addressing the Lord Mayor, 
exclaims : “ What is this , my Lord ? Can you , as Lord 
Mayor , give such a toast ? Will you yourself apply the 
matches to a repetition of Queen Mary's faggots in 
Smith field ? You want us then to count beads , and buy 
indulgences at St. Paul's ? To pay Peter's pence , and 
to rub our noses against Thomas-a-Bechet's bones ? 
Another conflagration 0/T666? and another subscription 
for another Monument ? Each word of your toast is a 
cask , each letter is a flask of powder , placed under the 
new Houses of Parliament. It is a Guy Faux in words. 
You cannot possibly have any veneration for the church - 


R0MANA1. 


393 


dignity of our eighth Henry , by all laivs, human and 
divine , the eternal head of the Anglican church. Now , 
my Lord , every man has a right to have his opinion; I 
have mine; and sooner than abandon my veneration for 
the ecclesiastical supremacy of the eighth Henry , 1 
would rather be a houseless outcast , and steeped in 
poverty to the lips.” These words, pronounced with 
furious gesticulation by the Canon, cause a terrible 
commotion in the Egyptian Hall. He is supported 
warmly by Gerard Niblett, an alderman, who relisheth 
not St. Peter’s larder in Lent, so well as St. Paul’s. 
Most of the guests side more or less with the Canon; 
the remainder retire with the Mayor, who says to one of 
his friends, a sensible and thin alderman : “ Perhaps I 
teas wrong in giving my toast; but I never bargained 
for such a man as Canon Scudamore among my guests .” 

In Ireland, much opposition is manifested against 
Urbano, owing to the desecration of St. Patrick; the 
Council of Lateran having come to the conclusion of its 
being more than probable that no such person existed; 
and that Patrick, a species of deity with the lower Irish, 
was nothing more or less than an imaginary ecclesiastical 
personification of Attila. But in spite of these contra¬ 
rieties, the edicts of the Council make deep impression 
on the thinking spirits, both Catholic and Protestant, in 
Dublin, Belfast, Cork, and Limerick. In the Scotch 


394 


HOR.E 


universities, animated and lengthened discussions take 
place relative to Urbano and his Council, supported 
without animosity. In Edinburgh, Glasgow, Perth, and 
Aberdeen, respect for the Pontiff gains a daily ascend¬ 
ancy. The church-dignity of the eighth Henry totters, 
both in London and Oxford; and with many in Cam¬ 
bridge, the old aboriginal rock of St. Peter, as cleansed 
and redintegrated by Urbano, is preferred to the artificial 
stone one of George of Cappadocia. 

In the mean time, Urbano is indefatigable at Rome. 
One hundred and fifty circulars are issued from the 
secretariat to different towns, ordering that the dead 
should be no longer interred in churches; that this 
usage, so insulting to religious feeling, ought to be 
universally discarded, as it already, to a certain extent, 
is. And he designates Bologna as exhibiting one of - 
the best examples of cemeteries, recommending its imita¬ 
tion, with a size proportionate to the resources and 
population of the different cities. Circulars are also 
issued, ordaining, that from the beginning of the subse¬ 
quent year, funerals should only take place on Wednes¬ 
days and Fridays throughout the year, except in cases 
of contagious diseases. Orders are also sent to the 
authorities of Velletri, Anagni, Alatri, Frusinone, Ve- 
roli, and Terracina, commanding them to transmit to 
the Vatican, statements relative to the schools, charities, 


ROMANCE. 


395 


and manner of disposing of them. Urbano also writes 
an autograph to the monks of the Grand St. Bernard, 
stating his wish, that since Bernard is desecrated, and 
now inscribed in the Libro dei Venerdbili , their monas¬ 
tery should be consecrated to the Blessed Virgin, or the 
Trinity, or the Saviour, as the majority of their opinions 
might determine. He exhorts them too to continue 
those hospitalities, for which their establishment has 
been so long celebrated. He pens also a letter to the 
abbess of the nunnery at Trois Rivieres, in Canada, 
stating that he had heard of certain scandals having of 
late infested their society; the repetition of which, he 
hopes, will no more reach his ears. 

The fourteenth and most fatiguing year of his pontifi¬ 
cate sets in. Immense were the labours in the Camera 
della Segnalura. Learned individuals, from seven or 
eight European nations, are seen passing to and fro the 
library, and the papal study. The Vatican is a Babel of 
tongues. The final sigills had not yet been affixed to 
the acts of the Council; they had been placed, three 
years before, on a large table, at the end of the apart¬ 
ment, finely written on vellum, in the oldest ecclesiastical 
character. The Pope, in the fifth year of his pontificate, 
had transmitted to different Catholic countries, the acts 
of the Council; and deputies, from various literary and 
collegiate institutions, with rescripts to the Pope, touch- 


396 


HORiE 


mg the acts of the Council, had been for many months 
in Rome, waiting to be presented in the Vatican; but 
the Pope, owing to the accumulated pressure of business, 
was unable to receive them till this year. These rescripts, 
with their sigills appended, were numerous, and con¬ 
tained in all, about seventeen thousand signatures ; all 
of which were from persons, conversant at least with the 
liierce humaniores. Of these, thirteen thousand and 
more, were wholly assentient to the acts of the Council; 
and the remainder, though in some points assentient, 
were dissentient in not unimportant particulars. 

The Pontiff, dressed in his full robes, and seated in 
an ancient chair of the Vatican, one believed to have 
been used by Gregory the Great, and in front of the 
table in the Camera della Segnatura , receives the depu¬ 
ties, each bearing the signatures from their respective 
countries. The deputies, after bowing to the Pontiff, 

leave each the scrolls on the table, and move on. 

% 

First, are presented the two deputies from France,intro¬ 
duced by the Reverendissimo Cardinale de Mene, a man 
highly esteemed by the Pope, for his enlightened views, 
and extended erudition. Then follow successively the 
deputies, with the scrolls, from Germany, Spain, Portu¬ 
gal, the Low Countries, Hungary, Poland, and the three 
United Kingdoms, each introduced by a Cardinal. Suc¬ 
ceed the two deputies, bearing the signatures from the 


ROMANCE. 


397 


venerable monasteries of Nazareth, Jerusalem, and 
Bethlehem; and from two of the monasteries in the 
Thebaid; also an autograph complimentary letter to the 
Pope, from the abbot of the sacrosanct monastery of 
Mount Sinai. These last are introduced by the Reve- 
rendissimo Baltasar Balcan, a learned native of Jerusa¬ 
lem, and Cardinale dell ’ Oriente. Then follow the two 
deputies, with the scrolls subscribed in five of the West 
India islands, in New York, New Orleans, Baltimore, 
Cincinnati, and Mexico; introduced by the Reverendis- 
simo Francis Fennick, Cardinale delV America setten- 
trionale . The procession is closed by two deputies, with 
the signatures from Lima, the Caraccas, Buenos Ayres, 
Valparaiso, Rio Janeiro, and the old Jesuit missionaries 
on the Rio de la Plata; these last are introduced by 
the Reverendissimo Teodosio Calderon, Cardinale dell ’ 
America meridionale. Many of the rescripts in partial 
opposition to the Council, were well-written, and con¬ 
tained arguments of sufficient weight, to give the Pontiff 
much trouble. Nine interpreting secretaries worked at 
them for seven months, as many hours a day, holidays 
excepted. Turning to the Cardinal di San Matteo , the 
Pope says: “ The result, Cardinal, must be deemed, on 
the whole, very satisfactory; indeed, I had rather receive 
some of the signatures more or less dissentient, than the 
whole completely assentient. These diversities prove 


398 


HORjE 


minds, that can and dare think for themselves. We 
have, however, a vast majority on our side; and thank 
God, this is sufficient to prop the Council of Lateran.” 

The difficulties relative to the changes in the liturgy, 
were not yet cleared away. At last, after seven sessions 
of the deputies, held in the Sistine chapel, and at all of 
which Urbano presided, with eleven of the Cardinals, 
it was finally settled : first, that no alterations should be 
adopted in the saying of the mass, save its pronunciation 
in the respectively indigenous dialects of the different 
countries of Catholicism ; secondly, that nothing should 
be adopted from the English liturgy , but the English 
litany; the Pope remarking, that that fine composition 
belonged in disjectis membris to old Catholicism; but 
that certain pious English theologians had had the 
merit of enframing them in one admirable whole; 
Catholicism in reclaiming it, only taking what belonged 
originally to her; thirdly, that this litany of a very 
solemn character, should only be recited, or chanted 
during Lent, and the Passion-week ; fourthly, that the 
interceding prayers should be confined to those saints, 
decreed as such, by the first article of the Council of 
Lateran, and only addressed to each of them, on their 
severally appropriated festivals; fifthly, that the old 
Latin used in the briefs, bulls, encyclic epistles, and in 
certain admirable hymns set to old music, should re- 


ROMANCE. 


399 


main unaltered. At one of the last of these sessions, 
long and vivid discussions take place relative to the 
consecration, or non-consecration of churches, as before, 
to the Conception and Assumption; the Cardinal of 
Spain having proposed, that in addition to Art. I. of the 
Council of Lateran, they should be inserted. In answer, 
the Cardinal of Araceli remarks, that the doctrines of the 
conception and assumption are necessarily concentrated 
in the worship of the Blessed Virgin; that there is 
no end to the application of analysis in these important 
higher essences of Catholicism; that the proposal itself, 
though not per se objectionable, would furnish a prece¬ 
dent, which might be prejudicial to the rotundity of 
Catholicism, by opening, as heretofore, a door to many 
fanciful dedications; that, in fine, churches dedicated to 
the Blessed Virgin, will comprehend all that is sufficient, 
as far as her worship is concerned. The Pope sides in 
opinion with the Cardinal of Araceli; and the sugges¬ 
tion of the Cardinal of Spain, put to the vote, is re¬ 
jected, but only by a majority of two voices. An im¬ 
portant arrangement is also made relative to confession; 
which is, that in case the confessee should disburden his 
conscience of premeditated murder, whether occult or 
open, the confessor should be compelled, under pain of 
expulsion from the church, to reveal the name of the 
confessee, to the judge of the supreme criminal court, 


400 


IIORJ2 


who, sworn to secrecy, will provide that his person be 
watched; but that this law is not to extend to other 
offences merely premeditated; the same secrecy to exist 
as heretofore, between the confessor and confessee, pro¬ 
vided due repentance be manifested. 

These regulations, after long discussions between the 
Pontiff, the consistory, and the deputies from the 
different countries of Catholicism, are determined upon; 
and the final sigills are affixed to the acts of the Council 
of Lateran, on the day of Pentecost, of the fourteenth 
year of the pontificate of Urbano Nono. 

The Cardinal of Sant ’ Andrea della Valle , happening 
to stand by the Pope as he held the seal, says: “ Santo 
Padre , the day harmonises with your act; you extend 
the tongues of Catholicism on the day of the tongues .” 
The Pontiff smiled. During the whole of the ceremony, 
he was remarkably pale, and faint with exhaustion, 
occasionally leaning on a cane, which belonged to 
Sixtus V., and occasionally, on the arm of his first 
valet, Casaglio. He says in a faltering voice: <c My 
dear Cardinal, have I not now a right to three weeks’ 
holidays at Tivoli ?” He arrives at his cottage in com¬ 
pany with the Cardinal; but he had not been there a 
week, before Dr. Hildebrand Crichton, of the Marischal 
College in Aberdeen, profound in ecclesiastical literature, 
and descended in a remote line, from the admirable 


ROMANiE. 


401 


Crichton, presents him with a letter of recommendation 
from the head of one of the oldest Catholic families in 
Scotland. He partakes of a frugal dinner with the Pope, 
who says to his guest: “ I shall be glad, sir, to hear 
that Scotland, a country one of the most intellectual in 
Europe, and formerly—alas ! and only formerly—attached 
so eminently to Catholicism, is not altogether indifferent 
to my exertions. I hope at least she gives mat credit 
for being honest.” “ Honest,” replies Crichton ; “ the 
word is too weak to express the respect that all, at least 
in the highlands, entertain for you, Santo PadreT The 
Pope converses with him for a long hour, on the eccle¬ 
siastical condition of Scotland ; and in the course of his 
talk, remarks, that Scotland was a far more cheerful and 
happy country under old Catholicism, with all its faults, 
than since the pretended reformation. “ I grant,” he 
adds, “ that many individuals of your church are 
learned and conscientious men ; but there is a stubborn 
dryness about your Presbyterianism that makes the 
greater part of them look like spectres emerging from 
sepulchres. Rarely does a smile exhilarate their faces. 
To make your country with its climate, the very den of 
melancholy, were some Mephistopheles to appear in 
your sky, all he would have to do would be to wave his 
wand, and engraft a sombre Calvinism on your already 
dry Presbyterianism; and his malignity would be all 


402 


HORiE 


in all gratified. Neither would the ill stop there; 
for the schism - hydra will continue to multiply its 
horrid heads, spreading perturbation and disunion 
among families. One ray of hope, however, remains 
for your country; for I know that my brave high¬ 
landers cling in heart to that rock of St. Peter, so long 
beloved and venerated by their ancestors; they only 
require it to be cleansed of those foul weeds, which 
have so long gathered round it; to clear it of which has 
been my object, as well as that of the Council of 
Lateran.” The Pope then embracing Crichton, presents 
him with a snuff-box, on the lid of which is a Madonna 
and Child, by Carlo Dolce ; he afterwards gives him 
his blessing. Accompanying Crichton, was an old 
highlander, Culverhouse by name, whose grandfather 
was a faithful attendant on the first Pretender; him too 
the Pontiff receives kindly, and presents with a crucifix 
in ivory, which had long been in the oratory of Cardinal 
Stuart. 

A day or two after, Giovanni Mantegna, a learned 
and worthy gentleman of Mantua, much attached to 
Catholicism, and who had long pined in secret, at the 
abuses wdiich had obscured it, at the calamities which 
had beset it, and who had watched attentively from his 
cottage at Pietole, the birth-place of Virgil, all the 
reforms ofUrbano; enters the Pope’s apartment, bearing 


ROMANCE. 


403 


two palm-branches in his hand, and brandishing them 
over the Pontiff’s head, exclaims in a sonorous voice: 
“ Sancte Pater! Idumceas refer el tibi Mantua palmas /” 
The Pope most affectionately gives him his blessing. 
But these two interviews excepted, he receives no one 
at Tivoli, save his confessor, and the venerable and 
pious Cardinal di San Bartelomeo. 

Repose was so necessary for Urbano, that on retiring 
to Castel Gandolfo, which he always did in the summer, 
he did but little more than amuse himself with Ficoni, 
his gardener; overhauling from time to time the letters 
of Petrarch, and a choice selection of Italian sonnets, 
lately published at Milan. 

The fifteenth year of his popedom sets in; and he 
determines, his health somewhat restored, to officiate 
himself at the altars of some of the newly consecrated 
churches, in the garbs of most of the ecclesiastical 
orders. He appears successively on different days, in 
the habits of the Franciscans, the Dominicans, the 
Celestines, the Carthusians, the Theatines, the Capu¬ 
chins, and the Benedictines. His spirits rallied con¬ 
siderably towards the close of the year ; he walks with 
the Spanish ambassador in the Medicean gardens. 
The conversation turning on his new organisation of the 
Roman nobility, he observes: “ Can it, Senor em- 
baxador , be better arranged for a state, whose policy 


H 0 R M 


4 04 

must be more pacific than any other. I am abused 
night and day, for my extermination of the titles of 
Principe , Duca, Conte , and Barone . And what is the 
basis of these titles ? Military or naval exploits; which 
so long as Rome remains the visible nurse of Catho¬ 
licism, she can and ought not to have. Under Julius 
the Second, she made some efforts to create an aris¬ 
tocracy founded on military merit. The attempt natu¬ 
rally failed. We live in times, when communities will 
not eye with respect and honour, a tenth or twentieth 
descendant of the Dorias, the Zenos, the Yenieri, the 
Medici. And what have any of these families to do 
with Rome ? Let it not be imagined that I undervalue 
military merit; but it must be recollected that we can¬ 
not here eye military desert with that enthusiasm that 
it always has obtained in France, Spain, and other 
countries. After all, under my new system, Rome may 
realize, not indeed that flashy blood, resulting from the 
clash of arms, but a very respectable drift of blood, from 
ecclesiastical, agricultural, and Belle Arti excellence.” 
Speaking of Louis XIV. he says: “ Had he opened the 
tribunals more, abolished the lettres de cachet , and 
erected a palace at St. Germain, which he might have 
done better at half the cost of Versailles, posterity? 
whatsoever view may be taken of political institutions, 
could never have refused him the title of Great. I say 


ROMANCE. 


405 


nothing of his revocation of the edict of Nantes ; for it 
is certain this Vatican of our’s instigated it.” He then 
alludes to the quasi extinct dogma of the infallibility of 
the Pope. “ It is evident,” he says, “ that it crept into 
the church, at some dismally barbarous epoch. The 
power of thought is now so diffused and strengthened, 
that all Catholics of any stamen of mind reject it. At 
the same time, I never liked those who treat lightly the 
respect due at least in the aggregate, to the acta con - 
ciliorum; which, though they may not be infallible, 
deserve in the main, a higher veneration than several of 
the laws of laic legislators, or laic legislative assemblies, 
influenced as they generally are by the pushing interests 
of the day.” He alludes to the new Libro dei Venera - 
bill. “ How is it possible that in Spain,” he says, 
“ Hermenegildo, Ildefonso, Ignacio, and others, can now 
inspire more than ordinary respect ? Who would busy 
themselves now with erecting churches to Ignacio 
Loyola, Teresa of Aviles, and such like ? They find at 
last their proper stations in the Libro dei Venerabili. 
In our age, they can hope for nothing higher. We 
have had great difficulties in the arrangement of this 
Libro, seeing that the merits of some were sealed by 
martyrdom, and those of others only by acts of piety 
and abstinence. Let us take the most exalted merits of 
those who have sealed their faith by undergoing the 


406 


IIORJ2 


trials of martyrdom. Surely one thousand years, more 
or less, of sanctification will have shed an overblazing 
halo of glory around their names, for a transitory state 
like this, where it is preposterous to look for eternal 
rewards. Yes, it must be confessed, that the sanctifica¬ 
tion even of these, aided by hundreds of paintings and 
sculptures, commemorative of their sufferings, has most 
superabundantly compensated their merits, at least with 
us, here below r . As for the others, of whom there are 
not a few in our calendar, and who have so long ob¬ 
tained sanctification with churches and altars, for having 
uttered frequent prayers, and merely practised obser¬ 
vances of self-denial, the hourly encreasing intelligence 
of our age wills, that all of those latter should be 
stripped of their sanctities and altars; but not of that 
respect, due to, and ensured to several, by the registra¬ 
tion of their names in the new Libro dei Venerabili. 
The difficulties occasioned by these considerations, have 
been quasi cleared, by the division of the work into two 
classes: the first entitled, Venerabili dell ’ ordine pri- 
mario; the second, Venerabili dell ’ ordine secondario. 
The first class will comprise those, who living subse¬ 
quently to our Saviour and the Apostles, obtained the 
crown of martyrdom; the second, those who were eminent 
for their piety, discipline, and predicatory exertions. 
What good Catholic can now instruct his flock to adore 


ROMANCE. 


407 


the hysterically enthusiastic visions of Teresa, or Giulia 
Falconieri, or rivet their faculties with the contempla¬ 
tion of the tortures of Lorenzo ?” He alludes to the 
political condition of Spain, and says: “ Your country, 
embaxador , since the death of Charles the Third, pre¬ 
sents a pitiful page for history. Under that monarch, 
Spain was happy enough and wealthy at home, and 
made herself sufficiently respected abroad. The in¬ 
quisition indeed existed, but not much more than in 
name. Now your country is neither respected abroad, 
nor happy at home. And what are your Cortes 
• about ? They surely cannot think that the same eccle¬ 
siastical frame-work can now exist, as what did half a 
century ago. Now that Potosi and Mexico no longer 
pour dollars by thousands every month, into Corunna 
and Cadiz, your archbishops of Toledo, and other 
towns cannot hope to enjoy annual stipends of half a 
million of dollars each. Spain to be happy, must begin 
by lowering her tone in these things. Destroy the 
archbishoprics. Preserve the episcopacies, the canon- 
ries, and the curacies. Give to your principal bishops 
about fifteen thousand dollars each for annual stipends; 
to the inferior, about eight. I do not mean to assert 
in a breath, that this is the best possible arrangement; 
but still it would be doing something. Your chief 
bishops would then be as well off nearly as the President 


408 


HOR^: 


i 

of the American States. I cannot find tliat any member 
of your Cortes has yet proposed to alter the old method 
of keeping the public accounts in pitiful reals , and to 
substitute for them dollars .” Then falling into one of his 
bizarre moods, and laughing, he says: “ Supposing I 
were to drive my ball into the arena of the Cortes, I 
mean my Lateran bull, do you think he would goad 
them into activity ? Would he find an aficionado to 
back him ? I am afraid he would fall foul of a matador. 
Then the matador , after killing my bull , would propose 
a glorious expedition against the windmills of La 
Mancha.” Then shaking his ribs with his guttural 
chuckles, he adds : “Well, embaxador , how would they 
receive the bull of Juan Benincasa, deputy to the Cortes 
from the city of Toro ?” The ambassador, not a little 
nettled at these jokes of the Pontiff, frowned sternly in 
silence. The Pope perceiving which, suddenly changed 
the tone of his discourse, and restored the good humour 
of the envoy. They dine in the Vatican; where a 
lengthy and serious discussion takes place relative to the 
ecclesiastical affairs of Spain, too long for me to record. 
Urbano takes an airing the next day to Capo di Bove , 
accompanied by the supervisor of the public works, 
and Dragoni, the master of his band. In his playful 
way, he shot squibs at the corrupt state of architecture, 
which had infested Italy, not less than other countries, 


ROMANCE. 


409 


for so long a period; but he said, considerable meliora¬ 
tions in taste have lately taken place; at least we have 
made great progress, since the time that Boughese 
favoured us with his harpsichord palace, and Braschi 
with his. Then turning to Dragoni, who was a favourite 
of the Pontiff, and chuckling gutturally, he says: 

“ Come, Dragoni, I intend to build an organ palace, and 

9 

another to be called the contrabasso palace. This I 
will give you. It shall have a spiral stair-case up the 
sound-post, and two f windows in the roof, from which 
you can pop your head, and inhale the morning air.” 
Then abandoning his vein of pleasantry, and turning to 
the supervisor of the public works, he observes : “ It 
is surprising how difficult this art is. The Cardinal 
delle Isole Britanniche gave me some time ago, a whole 
University, the work of an English gentleman, by name 
Resell, Kessell, no—Kelsall—that is the name ; and yet 
with all the labour he must have bestowed upon it, 
several of his designs are good but for little. What a 
pity it is he did not keep his work longer on the anvil, 
and string his ideas more logically together. The 
pressure of mind was probably too great for him. Like 
me, he had too many irons in the fire ; heavy ones too,” 
he adds, with his guttural chuckle. And well might he 
say so; for the labours he personally underwent in the 
sifting of the old saints for the formation of the new 


410 


HORjE 


Libro dei Verierabili, were incalculable. Often did he 
order the Vatican library to be lighted; and there 
would he remain almost till dawn, affixing marginal 
interrogatory notes to the labours of the commissioners, 
and aided in his researches by a dozen and more indi¬ 
viduals of different nations. Frequently these papers 
relative to the very dubious merits of several of these 
heretofore saints, were sent and returned half a dozen 
times, before the Pontiff and his learned associates could 
be satisfied, even in reference to the privilege of ad¬ 
mission into the new Libro dei Venerabili. Thrice did 
his valet Casaglio find him there, speechless, and 
stiffened by catalepsy. 

Tot sustinens et tanta negotia solus , Urbano, the suc¬ 
ceeding year, presents for the most part a sad spectacle. 
Exhaustion, and an internal relaxation of the more im¬ 
portant branches of the nerves, caused by the violent 
action and reaction, which his fibres had so long sus¬ 
tained, throw him on his couch for hours together. He 
rallies for a short time, towards the summer; and the 
Cardinal of San? Andrea della Valle persuades him to 
visit the Vatican library; where he finds the old brick 
floor covered with a fine Monaco; fifty feet and more of 
the new book-cases, chiefly of American cedar, erected; 
and about half a dozen of the cedar chests, for the re¬ 
ception of the manuscripts, with their recesses newly 


ROMANCE. 


411 


labelled and alphabeted. He visits also the new Quirinal 
College, and sees the first layers of Tiburtine, destined 
to form the new observatory; the first stone of which 
was laid two years before, by the Cardinal of Araceli. 
A professor from Bologna chalks out in his presence, the 
first arc of the Quirinal meridian. The Cardinal also, to 
divert his mind, engages a fine band of performers to go 
to Castel Gandolfo, where they arrive, with a waggon 
load of scenery, and get up the Nozze di Figaro; of 
which the Pope, though he had never heard it in a 
theatre since his boyhood, was specially fond. During 
the performance, he suffered a relapse. One moment he 
would weep ; another, he would gaze on his favourite 
gem of Marcus Aurelius, the work of ^Epolianus; then 
again he would gaze on the third finger of his left hand, 
on which was the head of Augustus, by Dioscourides; 
and this he would eye with a smile, partaking of one 
quarter of imbecility, and three quarters of sense; then 
he would remove it, and play with it like a child, for a 
second or two between his fingers; then again he would 
weep. Before the end of the piece he was forced to 
retire, supported by his favourite valet Casaglio. The 
gem of Augustus,—whether forgetting it or no is uncer¬ 
tain—he left on his chair. His physician urged him to 
use finer linen, and a softer bed, to which the Pope, 
who had no foolish obstinacy about him, assented. 


412 


HOR/E 


In the beginning of the seventeenth year of his pope¬ 
dom, he was better; and in a conference with the Car¬ 
dinal di San Matteo , he remarks: “ I intend to abolish 
officially excommunications, as they already are virtu¬ 
ally; and have been, since about the days of Louis XIV. 
when the affair of Crequy, his minister, made such a 
noise at Rome. The thunders of this Vatican of our’s 
are long since spent. The church should, I think, in 
lieu, adopt what I would term monitory letters , which 
should be couched in less or more severity, and sent to 
those ecclesiastical functionaries, who abuse in any 
flagrant manner their duties.” 

A day or two after, he sends for two of the principal 
printers in the city; and proposes the establishment of 
one opposition newspaper, to be printed twice a week; 
not that he wishes Rome to swarm with enormous 
gazettes, like London; the spirit of her institutions 
being averse to any thing like strong political conten¬ 
tions. But he says, it will be beneficial to have a paper 
conceived and written in a temperate spirit of opposition 
to the Diario di Roma; and this new one he proposes 
to call La Gazzetta dei sette Colli. He also abrogates 
the usage of compelling young virgins to take the veil, 
substituting a tentatory noviciate of two years; at the 
expiration of which, any novice, having made the expe¬ 
riment of the nun-life, may either reject or embrace it; 


ROMANS. 


413 


but without the power of returning to it, except by a 
special permission of the higher ecclesiastical authorities. 
The same law is adopted for the monasteries. 

A day or two after, the Cardinal di San Pietro comes 
into his study, accompanied by Francis Camberlin, a 
young priest, born of a good family in Maryland, a great 
favourite of the Pope, and who was pursuing a course of 
studies at the Sapienza , with the view of rising in the 
church. He tells the Pontiff, that he is the bearer of 
good news; that the acts of the Council make a daily 
encreasing impression on the towns of the Union; that 
very many quakers, both wet and dry, baptists, anabap¬ 
tists, tunkers, shakers, Socinians, Jews, and Deists, in 
all about two thousand, had at Baltimore, Charleston, 
Cincinnati, and New Orleans, professed their future 
devotion to the good old aboriginal church; and that the 
Honorable John Foster, a Catholic member of Congress, 
and admirer of Urbano, had been just elected to the 
Presidency of the United States. The news spreads a 
smile of satisfaction over the care-worn features of the 
Pontiff; and giving Camberlin his blessing, he says to 
the Cardinal: “ I recommend this young man to the 
protection of the sacred college; if he continues as he 
has begun, he will, I hope, one day adorn the chair of 
St. Peter.” 

He was still at Castel Gandolfo, which he was about 


414 


II OR,I'. 


to quit for the last time. As he passes through the 
court, a large clog, presented to him by the monks of the 
Grand St. Bernard, wagging his shaggy tail, reclines at 
his feet; and Argus-like, eyeing the Pontiff, takes a fare¬ 
well of him, in an affectionate howl. “ Florio, Florio,” 
says the Pope, “ thou, at least, wilt miss me at Castel 
Gandolfo.” Many Protestants had flocked to Rome; 
they, with several of the Pope’s friends, had resolved on 
ushering in his return to that city with a gratulatory pro¬ 
cession. Urbano had rallied considerably; and he arrives 
at the gate, formerly del Popolo , but now Belisaria. The 
procession is headed by his own superb band; then fol¬ 
low about fifty choristers, accompanying fine but serious 
music; then, immediately heading the papal carriage, 
are seen fifty young maidens, attired like the ancient 
vestal virgins, who strew from baskets, flowers in his 
way, through the Corso to the Vatican. On arriving at 
St. Peter’s colonnade, the band and the maidens congre¬ 
gate round the obelisk; where the music and voices 
sound three or four times the fine finale of the Figaro, 
set to appropriate words, as the Pope passes through 
the columns. He is received by his sister, Eugenia 
Benincasa, who had not seen the Pope for more than 
six years. She stands on the grunsel edge of Constan¬ 
tine’s staircase, attended by two ladies of Arpino, and 
two or three of the wives of the new nobles. She hardly 


ROMANCE. 


415 


recognizes her brother, so shaken as he was, so wan 
with care; and flinging her arms round his neck, she 
bursts into a flood of tears. He passes a quiet evening 
in her society alone; and recruited by this interview, a 
few days after, he decrees, that the titles of the cardinals, 
both a latere and exterior , should be simply Reverend - 
issimo Monsignore , and not Eminentissimo , as heretofore; 
and that the title Reverendo should belong to ecclesiastics 
of other denominations. Pie orders too, that the Cardi- 
nali esteriori should, on their first arrival at, and final 
departure from Rome, be saluted, each, with a discharge 
of fifty guns, from the Castle of St. Angelo. The first 
application of this ceremony was to the departure of the 
Reverendissimo Monsignore Ambrose Lettsom, from 
Rome for London, first Cardinale delle Isole Britanniche. 

He also suggests to the conclave, that it would be well 
to establish as a generally current principle, without 
giving it the fixity of a law, the not conferring the car¬ 
dinal’s hat on any individual till he shall have passed 
the age of thirty-five years; stating in a rescript of his 
own, his reasons for so doing, which are too long for me 
to record here. 

The new Libro dei Venerabili is completed this year, 
the labour of nearly thirty learned individuals, who had 
worked at it for upwards of five years. It is stationed 
in the centre of the Sistine chapel; where it remains for 


416* 


HORjE 


one night. It is then removed to a stand opposite St. 
Peter’s statue in the Basilica, where it remains three 
days. In the first pages appear several of the heretofore 
saints of the first ages of Christianity ; in the succeeding 
pages appear the names of Francesco Assisi, Philippo 
Neri, Francesco Xavier, Carlo Borromeo, Francesco di 
Sales, Francesco di Paolo, and some others; but in 
which, numerous Italians, who have hitherto figured as 
saints in the calendar, as well as many foreigners simi¬ 
larly honoured, are not even deemed worthy, after mi¬ 
nute investigation, of the title of Verierabili; and are 
consequently excluded. In the emblazoned pages, figure 
especially, Jerom, Basil, Cyprian, Lactantius, Arnobius, 
Chrysostom, Augustine, Boethius, and the rest of the 
primitive fathers, some of whom heretofore bore the 
titles of saints. In the subsequent pages, speak all-elo- 
quently to the eyes, the names of Louis IX. of France, 
no longer a saint; Le Chevalier sans peur et sans re- 
proche, Du Guesclin, Massillon, Flechier, Bourdaloue, 
Bossuet, Fenelon, the Bishop of Marseilles, and one or 
two others; Bede, Thomas-a-Becket, Edward I., Pole, 
More, Fisher, and one or two more of England; Al- 
phonso V. of Arragon, Ferdinand the Catholic, Ignacio 
Loyola, Teresa, and a few others of Spain; three or four 
well-attested of Portugal; with very many of all countries 
omitted, who have hitherto obtained the certificates of 
sanctity and venerability rather too hastily. 


ROMANCE. 


417 


Splendid was the ceremony of the transportation of 
the new Libro dei Venerabili , from St. Peter’s to St. 
John Lateran. The Pope supervised the whole arrange¬ 
ments himself; desirous that they should display none 
of the old theatrical gew-gaws. His object was, to ex¬ 
hibit a procession as simple and imposing as possible, 
without any theatrical flare. The Libro of the finest 
vellum, with the names of the new Venerabili inscribed 
in the oldest ecclesiastical characters, was simply bound 
in purple Genoa velvet. The box, destined for its re¬ 
ception, was a three foot cube, of three casings. The 
interior was of a cedar from Lebanon, sent from Aleppo 
expressly, and one inch in thickness; a half inch of 
mahogany was veneered to the cedar; and the exterior 
casing was of plates of Venetian sequin gold, of the 
thickness of strong sheet-tin, so well soldered and fast¬ 
ened to the mahogany, that the box, top, bottom, and 
sides, appeared one block of burnished gold, exhibiting 
no reliefs, no inscription. It had two partitions; the 
lower, four inches deep, was separated from the upper, 
by a strong net-work, in flat bars of Mosaic gold, on 
which the book was placed. The lower partition was 
filled with a paste, composed of the most odoriferous 
gums and spices of the east, surpassing in fragrance any 
made at Constantinople. The hinges, lock, and key, 
the handle of which was of the finest gold, were the 

2 E 


418 


HORii 


master-pieces of Bramah. On the eve of All Saints, the 
box is stationed on a temporary altar, where it remains 
all night, opposite St. Peter’s statue in the Basilica, five 
hundred tapers blazing around it. The next morning, 
mass said, it is borne on a tressle, to a car, stationed 
near the obelisk, by six canons of Saint John of Lateran, 
and as many of St. Peter’s; who are also destined to 
bear a canopy of plain purple velvet, with eight black 
poles, suspended over it, all the way to the sacristy of 
St. John of Lateran. The car was a truncated pyramid, 
seven feet in height, with purple velvet, drawn tightly 
over it, completely concealing the wheels, giving a 
square area of fifty inches, for the station of the box. 
The area was surrounded by a three-inch border of 
Mosaic metal, but very plain. First advances the Pope’s 
band, playing serious airs, from the oldest composers, 
accompanied by the choir of St. Peter’s. Then follow 
eight priests, from different Catholic countries, bearing 
flags of finest white linen, stretched from two poles; the 
four flags inscribed in letters of black velvet, with the 
well-known passages from the Psalms, allusive to the 
departed righteous. Then follow twelve incense-burners, 
immediately preceding the car, drawn by the Pontiff’s 
eight superb English horses, caparisoned from shoulders 
to haunches, with plain purple velvet palls, reaching to 
their fetlocks. From their heads rose heron plumes. 


ROMANS. 


419 


Eacli was led by a priest. No gold or silver lace, no 
tassels or festoons, were seen in any part of the proces¬ 
sion. Peremptory orders were issued, that no noises of 
any kind should take place during the ceremony. The 
only noise allowed was the discharge of the great gun 
from the castle of St. Angelo, every three minutes. To 
add to the imposing effect, the Pope had ordered Mon- 
ticuli, the Commander-in-Chief, to station at six different 
points, bevies of military, consisting each of about tw enty 
privates, with their ensigns, all the officers, and each 
bevy with its band. The car stops for a few minutes, 
opposite each of these groups; when the military do 
not present arms as usual; but lay them on the ground; 
the troops, their muskets, the ensigns, their flags, the 
officers, their sw’ords, hats, and gloves; a band, sta¬ 
tioned with each group, sounding a few T bars of sacred 
music. The procession, after passing the castle of 
St. Angelo, gains the obelisk at the end of the Corso; 
thence by a circuit without reaches the Porta Felice; 
and sweeping round by the Quirinal, and Santa Maria 
Magyiore , arrives in three hours at the portico of San 
Giovanni. The Pope did not follow the procession; but 
receives the box at the entrance of the sacristy. It is 
lowered in his presence into a vast teak chest, inlaid 
with the most precious oriental woods, and presented to 
the Pope by a nobleman of Ireland, who had been in 


420 


IIOR^ 


Bengal, and for which he had paid one thousand guineas. 
The Pontiff', holding the small key of the box in his right 
hand, and the larger of the teak chest in his left, turning 
to the Deans and Canons, addresses them in these words: 
“ Venerati Decani,venerati Canonici,utriusque Basilica, 
vos omnes consaluto. Noiurn vobis jampridem est, qua- 
Hum quantarumque solliciiudinum et vigiliarum fructus, 
novus Liber Venerabilium fuerit in hdc area inclusus. 
De hoc opere, ad ecclesice Catholicce redintegrationem 
maxime spectanti, ah hominibus, cum emunctioris naris , 
turn summed doctrines, confecto, approbato, conjirmato, 
amplius commentari , plane supervacaneum foret. Con- 
cedo , igitur , has claves , tibi venerate Decane, Decanis- 
que futuris ecclesice Sancti Johannis Lateranensis , uni- 
versarum matris , in ceternum custodiendas 

The whole city now assumes a different aspect. 
Where ten beggars were seen a few years before, 
scarcely three are to be met now. Three-fourths of the 
dismantled churches are battered down. Some of the 
reconsecrated churches bear on their friezes their new 
dedications, as provided by the first Article of the 
Council of Lateran. Watchmen perambulate nightly 
the Rioni. An iron bridge from England is about to 
supplant the old and unsightly Ponte Rotto. Many of 
the iron-latticed windows are removed, behind which, 
for so many centuries, squalid faces were seen, afraid 


ROMAN jE. 


421 


to look, or to be looked at. Stiletto-cases are rare; 
cicisbeism is less frequent; not numerous are the courte¬ 
sans. The boys apply the words, “ e ana Madonnac- 
ciata ,” to the few women who remain, with gold orna¬ 
ments in their heads, to the value of five hundred scudi, 
under a horn lantern of the Madonna, and cracking lice 
from morn to even. No Madonna with her tin frame, 
and horn lantern, cau now be seen from the Porta del 
Popolo to the Acqua Paola. 

The heat is intense at Rome. A hot sirocco whirls 
the dust in spiral columns, “ adeo turbidis imbribus , at 
vulgus iram deiim portendi crediderit A violent 
thunder-storm ensues, which rattling in protracted 
peals round Bernini’s colonnade, in a night of pitchy 
darkness, is reverberated, with echoing din, from each 
of the Seven Hills. The lightning is so frequent and 
vivid, that every building seems in one continuous glare. 
The Araceli, just completed, with its figure of Religion 
in highest relief, on the pediment, the lightnings played 
around it and leaving it intact, speaks marvellously 
to the eyes. A death-like silence prevades for some 
minutes the whole city. A sable cloud hovering over 
the Pincian, bursts all at once in full plenitude of sound; 
when Esquiline, Aventine, Palatine, and Cmlian, bellow 
to each other in thunder, for two long hours. The 
spent storm dies gradually away, in sullen mutterings 


behind Soracte. The Pontiff, always fond of the sub¬ 
lime, as he surveys the appalling scene from the terrace 

✓ 

of the Vatican, receives a flash of lightning in the left 
eye, which deprives him of its sight. The news spreads 
the next day through the city; and the Trastevere old 
women cry: <{ Ah Vinfame! Ha trovato alfine la 
meritaia vendetta della Santa Madonna .” He rallies 
his strength a little, and visits for the last time St. 
Peter’s. Here he gives orders to conduct a small pipe 
to each of the grand receptacles for the holy water, from 
one of the fountains, so as to make the water perpetually 
flow to each, and lose itself in each by another pipe, 
conducted under the pavement of the church; so as to 
preserve in each of the receptacles, not a muddy water 
as now, but an always rippling transparency. He 
makes also a farewell visit to the school of Sanf Andrea 
della Valle , where he was educated. One of the senior 
students, running before him, lets drop in the grand 
arcade four scrolls of vellum finely illuminated, on one 
of which is inscribed : Pax et felicitas tarn in urbe, 
quam in suburbanis, sub Urbano: on another: Nun- 
quam sub Regibus, sub Consulibus, sub melioribus Im~ 
peratoribus, gratior libertas Romce extitit, quam sub 
Urbano nostro: on a third : Quod non fecerunt Bar- 
bari, fecerunt Barbarini; quod non fecerunt Barbarini, 
fecit carus Pontifex nosier; conveying a delicate com- 


ROMANCE. 


428 


pliment on the recent improvement of the Pantheon: 
on a fourth : Nobiles cum populo tandem bene composite 
sub Urbano Nono. The Pope, delighted, cries : “ E un 
ragazzo di died mila /” and slips into his hand a purse 
with a dozen Spanish doubloons. 

He takes a farewell look at the cathedral of San 
Giovanni Laterano , which he loved from his youth 
with almost a feminine fondness, calling it, “ La mia 
cara Chiesa ! La mia sempre benamata Chiesa !” He 
presents to its altar two cherubims of silver, each kneel¬ 
ing on either side of the receptacle of the host, and 
worth thirty thousand scudi. He prognosticates that 
this is the last view of his favourite church; the 
“ Cunctarum Mater et Caput Ecclesiarumand tears 
of incipient dotage fall from the eyes of Urbano Nono. 

On his return to the Vatican, the same evening, he 
gives a small concert of sacred music to three of his 
best friends, at which are performed short extracts from 
the works of Handel, Corelli, and Beethoven. The 
concert closes with the Requiem of Mozart. 

And now paralysis sticks her icy fangs into Urbano 
Nono. He musters, however, courage to disclaim, in a 
Motu Proprio, his title to infallibility, reprobating the 
dogma as originating in the superstition of the dark 
ages. In the same Motu , he inveighs with indignation 
against the ceremony of the papal foot being placed on 


424 


UOK^ 


the altar at the pontifical installations ; and against the 
arrogant usage of putting the cardinals’ votes in the 
sacred chalice. He reprobates, but not austerely, the 
relics-kissing, and beads-counting; he exhorts his suc¬ 
cessors to renounce the usage of kissing the papal foot, 
observing, that both Catholics and Protestants should 
hereafter be received with only a slight bow, and with 
arms extended, as generally done by Pius VII. He 
orders a few of the finer pictures to decorate the altars 
of the minor churches; and preserves with veneration 
the crucifixes on the altars; remarking, that he believes 
the most zealous adherents to the sanctity of Henry 
VIII. of England will at last give the Catholics credit 
for not adoring the picture or statue so placed at the 
altars; every honest Catholic only considering them as 
incentives to religious feeling. 

Urbano Nono now sinks rapidly to the tomb ; and, a 
few hours before his death, he thus addresses his friend 
and confessor, Francesco di Sienna, in faultering ac¬ 
cents : “ My dear Francesco; the main scope and aim 
of my pontificate has been to square, as far as lay in my 
feeble power, the august dignity of the pontifical office 
to the increased intelligence of our age. Most ancient, 
most venerable is my office, and I felt but too often 
sensible of my unworthiness to fill it. Severe, however, 
have been the difficulties I have had to contend with; 


425 


KOMANiE. 

but I was consoled by observing, that nearly all my 
adversaries in the most important of my acts, or bore 
but an indifferent character, or were persons who, born 
in low life, had not the advantages of education, and 
therefore suffered their minds to be warped by bigotry 
and narrow-minded prejudices. I hope nevertheless 
that, with the grace of God, I shall be found to have 
laid the corner-stone of an edifice, which may ultimately 
be regarded with veneration throughout Christendom. 1 
have uniformly set my face against those intriguers, who, 
under the mask of religion, set other nations in an uproar, 
only having in real view the gratification of their malig¬ 
nity, or the furtherance of their temporal interests. As 
soon as the Protestant nations shall have seen, as I trust 
they have during my pontificate, that Rome claims only 
what of perfect right belongs to her from the days of 
Saint Peter, the supremacy of the Christian church ; as 
soon as they shall have seen several superstitious ob¬ 
servances of the dark ages, which have quasi all been 
by me annulled, no longer insisted upon, I cannot help 
hoping that they will return one flock under one shep¬ 
herd ; and I am confident that by so doing, they w ill 
further even their own temporal interests better, than by 
remaining scions separated from the original trunk. 
By the act of my Council of San Giovanni Laierano, 
the church renounces the coining of saints ; and I have 


jiokj5 


426 

provided that even the title of Verierabile shall be but 
very rarely granted; and that too without requiring 
either prayers or holidays to any individual who may 
be so honoured. The bones and other relics so com¬ 
monly adored half a century ago, are now only to be 
found in the curiosity-shops; and the altar at Loreto is 
stripped of its tinsel ornaments. Such have been my 
principal objects in view during my pontificate; but, 
except the Lord build the house, the labour of them is 
lost that build it. The mystery of the consecrated wafer 
I have always chosen to adore as a mystery, rather than 
to attach a positively fixed dogma thereto; but I always 
unreservedly adored the sanctity of the Trinity, and of 

the Incarnation, typified by the Blessed Virgin.I 

am faint, good Francesco.place before me the bust 

of Ganganelli.”....Urbano breathes hard, just as Fran¬ 
cesco di Sienna had slipped on his finger the annulus 
piscatoris. 

The oldest crucifix preserved in the Vatican, is 
pressed to his lips; the viaticum is ministered to him, 
by the venerable Cardinal di San Bartolomeo , which 
he receives with great piety. An incoherent state of 
mind ensues, during which he mutters: u Protestants 
no more — so? — not — yes?—Indulgences gone—Relics 
kissed still — ha , ha, ha !—Henry the Eighth's toe— 
Sanctity kiss-schism dead—England note—alive still 




4*27 


ROMANCE. 

-— ah!—Luther out—Point of unity gained — no — yes — 
no—perhaps!” A stroke of catalepsy ensues; lie 
heaves a profound sigh, bows his head, and gives up 
the ghost. 

Thus dies Giovanni Benincasa, titled Urbano Nono, 
a native of Arpino, and in the sixty-fifth year of his age ; 
having filled the pontificate seventeen years, three 
months, and two days. Many of his friends on his 
decease, wished to prove his descent in blood from the 
Ciceros; but their researches were of course fruitless. 
He was, however, descended in the maternal line, from 
Cardinal Baronius of Sora, near Arpino, the learned 
author of the Annates Ecclesiastici. 

From the days of St. Peter, no Pontiff entertained a 
higher and sincerer veneration for the fundamental bases 
of Catholicism ; no enthusiastic disciple of Luther or 
Melanchthon, could more dislike the scum and dross, 
which had infested it for so many centuries. In spite 
of the violent* oscillations to which his mind was so long 
exposed, he rarely lost the balance of his temper. In 
the following instance, however, he did. For being 
busied with sifting the claims of Floranus of Brescia to 
sanctity, and a priest of that town happening to be at 
his elbow,he said dryly to him : “ Can you tell me who 
this Floranus was ?” “ I know nothing about him, 

Santo Padre” replied the priest. “ Nothing ? Are 


428 


HOKjE 


you sure he was not the illegitimate son of a certain 
goddess Flora, whose temple stood on the site of his 
church ? It was some such animal as yourself, who 
created this godling of Brescia, whom you instruct your 
flock to adore, unable to inform them who he was.” 
So saying, he seized the priest by the ear, and led him 
to the entrance of the Lepanto antechamber, thrusting 
him out with violence, and closing the door with a kick, 
as he departed. 

He indulged in very few luxuries; in none towards 
the close of his popedom; the ten or dozen splendid 
banquets that he gave, being more from policy, than the 
gratification of pride. He could not always observe 
Lent with the strictness that he wished, owing to cer¬ 
tain constitutional dtfaillances , partaking of the cata¬ 
leptic nature, and which required an inspiriting diet to 
counteract. To palliate this distemper, he used pro¬ 
fusely the Eau de Cologne, three or four bottles of which 
he would order to be poured over him, on quitting a 
hot bath, which he took usually twice a month. Six 
hundred bottles of that restorative were annually sent 
him from Cologne. He had little or none of that 
prudery, so often observable in churchmen. One Fran- 
gipane, a priest of Terni, very rigorous in outward 
observances, thinking to ingratiate himself with the 
Pope, complained to him of a greater concourse of 


ROMANCE. 




courtesans in the city, during the tenth carnival of his 
pontificate, then usual. The Pontiff* replied to his 
complaint, saying with his guttural chuckle : “ Tell the 
hussies, that if they remain in Rome beyond Shrove- 
Tuesday, I’ll souse them all in the well of the Bulicame 
at Viterbo; frequented by their noble sisterhood in the 
days of Dante thus vindicating the dignity of his 
profession, and hinting at the same time, that their 
occasional presence was an ill, sometimes to be winked 
at, though not countenanced. But the point in which 
he outshone all his predecessors, not excepting Ganga- 
nelli, was his never making his profession a tool for 
despotism. He often said, that good old Catholicism 
could flourish equally well, if rightly understood and 
practised, under a monarchy, a mixed government, or a 
pure republic. In his political sentiments he inclined 
to the liberal side; though he was reserved in express¬ 
ing his opinion. 

From the beginning of his reign, he insisted on a de¬ 
cent observance of Lent throughout the city; and it was 
remarked that Rome was never so serious during that 
fast, and never so gay on festivals, as under Urbano. In 
the Lent of the fifth year of his pontificate, he was pass¬ 
ing through the Piazza tli Spagna , in his carriage, fol¬ 
lowed by ten dragoons, and happening to meet a party, 
consisting chiefly of drunken foreign couriers, engaged 


430 


IiOR4<; 


in a noisy squabble, lie beckoned to his nearest dragoon; 
who, taking the hint, shouldered them so roughly with 
his horse, that three or four of the rioters fell; but they 
got off with a few bruises. 

He was much more liked by laics, than by men of his 
own cloth. Among the latter, he found through life his 
most deadly enemies; for this reason, that he did not fill 
their pockets with superfluous bonuses. The working 
classes were very fond of him. At the re-paving of the 
Pantheon, he once or twice appeared among the masons, 
who worked with double ardour in his presence. Seeing 
the sweat falling from their temples, he ordered a cask 
of London porter to be rolled among them, saying, with 
his guttural chuckle: “ London porter is a good thing 
for the supply of the perspiration-fountains.” Like 
Sixtus V. he could enjoy four or five glasses of wine; 
and he was known to economise twenty dozen, bottled 
from the natural pressure of picked single grapes, and 
presented to him by the city of Oporto; also a large 
case of the finest claret, sent to him as a present by the 
municipal authorities of Bordeaux. 

His most expensive amusement was the procuring of 
a series of half-length portraits of cardinals of all nations, 
most remarkable for their piety and amiability, as far 
back as art could furnish them. From their portraits, 
he ordered new ones to be painted, wherewith he adorned 


431 


ROM ANTE. 

the gallery at Castel Gandolfo. In this he expended 
near thirty thousand scudi. 

He often expressed a contempt for the too passive 
spirit of the educated Italians, Spaniards, and Portuguese, 
in reference to their indiscriminating acquiescence to all 
ecclesiastical arrangements. “ I like,” he said, “ men, 
who on hearing that a saint had been coined in the 
Vatican, would cry: ‘ What has this godling done to 
merit churches and altars?’ Here now is my Valet 
Casaglio. Supposing I had first drilled him for sancti¬ 
fication, with a dozen years’ counting of beads, and 
looking pale over a crucifix, for seven hours a day; 
suppose him dead, and then that I had dubbed him 
Saint Casaglio , and sent coxcombs in black livery, 
through Italy, and the Spanish peninsula, to raise 
churches to his sacred name; say, that all this had been 
done half a century ago, I doubt whether ten voices 
w’ould have been heard in opposition to my anile decree. 
But I contend that a full half of those who have obtained 
sanctification, with churches and altars, possessed no 
more title for that pre-eminence, than what my Casaglio, 
so drilled, would have. Let us suppose,” he would say, 
“ that I were coxcomb enough to dub Napoleon a 
saint; what w'ould every right-headed man think of me ? 
But nay,” he w F ould add, “ he has as good a right to 
sanctification, as George of Cappadocia, who, we know, 


432 


IlORvE 


is in the snug enjoyment of I know not how many 
churches; to say nothing of the splendid one to his 
godship on the Giudecca at Venice, nor of his holy 
patronage of England. Let us imagine,” he would say, 
“ that the Court of Convocation at Canterbury were to 
dub the hero of Waterloo a saint, assigning to him a 
holiday, and churches inscribed with his name; (though 

i 

now-a-days, a Henry the Eighth’s sanctityship is at a 
very low premium,) would, I ask, the English Court of 
Convocation be more reprehensible than several of my 
coxcomb predecessors ?” 

During his pontificate, he more than once uttered, 
with great earnestness, these words: “ Religion must, 
from its essence, delight in a point of unity. Any de¬ 
viation from that point must be, more or less, a deviation 
from the truth. The finding of, or rather, the approxi¬ 
mation to this punctum optimismi , is, from the concurrent 
testimony of all history, and of the acta Conciliorum , 
the most arduous and delicate operation of the human 
head and heart. Much as I approve the acts of my 
Council of Lateran, I dare not assert that the arrow of 
intelligence has even hit the central ring of the sacred 
target, much less its point. And yet,” he would add, 
sighing, “ I feel I have done something.” 

Talking of monastic institutions, he more than once 
said: “ If they are to exist, the inmates, of either sex, 


ROMANiE. 


433 


to ensure themselves respect, must shew that they are 
of some use; the junior monks in assisting the schools ; 
the nuns, in contributing to female education, and in the 
formation of voices for music; which, it must be said, 
many of the Italian nuns have often done to their honour. 
I am averse to numerous monastic institutions; but I 
like them in moderation, both as to numbers and reve¬ 
nues. About half a hundred monasteries, and as many 
nunneries, each containing no more than fifty individuals 
of either sex, would be quasi the right number for all 
Italy.” He entertained a high respect for certain mo¬ 
nastic institutions ; frequently inquiring into their reve¬ 
nues, condition, and number of inmates. His favourite 
establishments of this nature, were Monte Casino, Val- 
lombrosa, Caraaldoli, Assisi, and Monte Vergine. The 
higher the precipices on which they stood, the more 
interest he took in. them; and for this reason, out of 
Italy, the Grande Chartreuse, and the Grand St. Bernard; 
and in Greece, those at Patmos, Mount Athos, and the 
rocks of Meteora, were his favourites. But he took little 
interest in those of noisy and populous cities. But the 
monastery, for which he felt a reverence almost to weak- 

m 

ness, was that of Mount Sinai. In the fifth year of his 
pontificate, he consigned as a present to its monks, 
splendid copies of the Complutensian and Walton Poly- 
glott Bibles, inscribing on the sheets facing the title- 

2 F 


% 


434 


TIORvE 


pages : “ Dilectissimis fratribus meis ccenobii veneraiis - 

• 

simi Montis Sinai." He directed also a copy, in marble, 
to be made of Michael Angelo’s Moses, which he pur¬ 
posed for the chapel of the monastery; but the order 
was countermanded, owing to the difficulties attending 
the transportation of the statue. Any one who had 
travelled thither, and could bring him an account of the 
monks, their numbers, age, pursuits, and funds, was sure 
of meeting with a cordial reception in the Vatican. His 
bed-room at Castel Gandolfo was adorned with several 
views of the monastery; and the artist who designed 
them, though a loose fellow, continued a favourite with 
him through life. 

“ Araceli ,” he would say to the Cardinal so named, 
“ no spot on this face of the terraqueous globe, equals in 
interest Mount Sinai. In my youth, I felt some enthu¬ 
siasm for Delphi, Delos, and Dodona; but how vague 
and unsatisfactory are their impressions in comparison ! 
The religious light which glimmers on the ruins of Iona, 
on the hut-church of Skalholt, on the Troitsky abbey, on 
the Baikal sea, on the churches of Australia, and on 
those of extremest Chili and California, radiates prima¬ 
rily from Mount Sinai. There was the first stone of the 
old law placed, on which was subsequently raised the 
superstructure of Christianity. Jew, both highest and 
lowest, who bears the stamp of mystery on his forehead, 


ROMANiE. 


435 


eyes almost with adoration Mount Sinai; so doth 
Christian of every denomination. The Mohammedan 
of either sect, regards it with but little less reverence; 
aware as he is, if literate, that the doctrine of the old 
law furnished his prophet with the finer spiritual essence 
of his Koran. The missionary of the South Seas, as he 
gazes on the peaks of Mouna-Roa, thinks on Mount 
Sinai; the waves of the Sacred Sea , as they break near 
the Troitsky monastery, seem to waft to the ears of the 
Siberian monk recollections of Mount Sinai. The phi¬ 
losophical deist, whatsoever opinions he may conceive 
of the Jewish nation, sees there the first authentic wor¬ 
ship offered to a pure spiritual Being. Even the cold 
sceptic, who believes in nothing, is forced to eye with 
astonishment the important results, that have emanated 
from Mount Sinai. If there be any one who sees in all 
this, nothing but a fortuitous assemblage of coincidences, 
all I can say is, that his heart and fibres are composed 
of different materials from my own. Araceli , my dear 
Araceli , thy title compelleth thee to join with me in 
veneration of Mount Sinai. I should like to have the 
monastery put in good condition; its chapel gothicised; 
its garden walled round; a statue of Moses therein, 
striking a rock, wherefrom shoots a pellucid stream, sur¬ 
rounded by venerable trees; its monks learned, and of 
fine blood, about fifty in number; with moderate incomes, 


486 


II ORjE 


and a well-chosen library; preserving jealously in their 
establishment a noble simplicity.” 

Of course the monasteries of Nazareth and Bethlehem 
obtained their due respect from Urbano; but next to 
Mount Sinai, the one at the foot of Ararat inspired him 
with the greatest interest. 

Of the dissentient churches, he liked the most, the 
Armenian and the Greek; and the least of all, the Cal- 
vinistic; and not a great deal better than the last, the 
Anglican church. Of the latter, he said: “ I grant that 
many of its members are learned and conscientious men. 
But they all, more or less, exhale something of the odour 
of their eighth Henry.” 

One of the most marked traits in his character, was 
his uncompromising hatred of lies, in every thing that 
concerned the altar. And in unison with this feeling, it 
occurred to him, while examining the piles of reliques, 
placed by his order on a table, ranged all along the 
gallery of the Christian antiquities, to ply the members 
of the committee of inquiry with continual questions 
respecting them : “ How many of Veronica's handker¬ 
chiefs are there ? which is the most genuine of the 
hundred and one that are venerated ? Can any one of 
them he considered as satisfactorily authentic ? The 
proofs , Hie proofs: if not direct , at least circumstantial. 
Here is a hit of the cross called true , looking more like 


ROMANCE. 


437 


cork than wood: am 1 unreasonable in requiring that 
it must be proved to have been venerated for a long mil- 
lenium at least , before I can restore it to the sacristy of 
the church , whence it came ?” These, and hundreds of 
similar questions, were echoed all along the Christian 
gallery. And in unison with this feeling, it followed 
that so many of the heretofore saints were excluded even 
from the pages of the new Libro dei Venerabili. Much 
hesitation occurred at the inscription of the name of 
Becket. His horrid death at the altar alone procured 
his enrolment among the Venerabili delV ordine prim a - 
rio ; while such names as More, Fisher, and those of the 
Spanish and Portuguese missionaries, who incurred death 
in their sacred vocations, in the eastern and western 
hemispheres, were entered without hesitation. Pursuant 
also to this finely discriminating nerve which marked 
the Pontiff, it was ordained by the Council that a strong 
line of distinction should be drawn between the sancti¬ 
ties of the primary elements of Catholicism, and those 
of the apostles and the evangelists. He only acquiesced 
to the dedication of churches to the apostles and evan¬ 
gelists, with the special proviso, of their being placed in 
a secondary grade of sanctification ; forming, as it were, 
the external buttresses of the temple, not the temple 
itself. 

In spite of the continual calls of business, more fre- 


488 


ii oka*: 


quent than those undergone by Leo X. and Sixtus V. 
united, he rarely let a Lent pass, without finding time to 
communicate with his confessor; to whom he would 
reveal the inmost workings of his heart; with whom, to 
use the words of the poet: 

“ Totum se exploravit ad unguem.” 

The dangers to which he was exposed during the first 
years of his popedom were imminent and ceaseless; and 
in parrying them, he shewed as much talent, as if he 
had been under the tuition of the Florentine secretary 
himself. He paid, therefore, special attention to the 

i 

state of the troops. For several weeks before his coup 
d'etat against the old aristocracy, they were seen march¬ 
ing and counter-marching, by regiments and detach¬ 
ments, throughout the Bolognese and the Romagna. 
Though he knew quasi nothing of military affairs, yet 
his acuteness was such, that in throwing his eyes over 
any one, he could tell whether the soldier-blood was in 
him or not. The officers he selected were chiefly Pied¬ 
montese, they being the most warlike of the Italians; 
many of his troops were Albanians and Corsicans, re¬ 
markable for their stature, and not a little for their 
ferocity. At the crisis above noticed, a serenade from 
the band stationed near the Vatican staircase, always 
announced his departure and return. He spent near a 


ROMANCE. 


439 


million ol scudi , in douceurs to the troops and officers, 
who had shewn the most discretion in the delicate 
transactions of the alteration of the aristocracy, and oi 
the desecrations of the old saints. In spite of all these 
precautions, had it not been for the united vigilance of 
his valet Casaglio, and his cook, Henry Wolsey, he 
would probably have fallen a prey to the machinations 
of his enemies. In the sixth year of his pontificate, he 
happened to notice a deal box, placed on a marble table 
in his study, with its key on the lid. After enquiries 
from each of his secretaries and valets, he could not dis¬ 
cover how it came there. His suspicions were roused ; 
and on examining the lock, he saw on its tongue, three 
or four grains of gunpowder, which adhered to some oil. 
He ordered his valet to remove the box as gently as 
possible, to the centre of a large abandoned stable in 
the rear of the Vatican ; where four soldiers were ordered 
to discharge a dozen and more bullets at it. The box 
splintered to pieces, it was judged safe to approach it; 
when it was found to contain two pounds and more of 
powder. A small cylindrical cap, attached to the end 
of a spiral spring, also the fragment of a match, tipped 
with brimstone, and about as thick as a quill, were found. 
At the bottom of the cylindrical cap, was found a paste, 
which on being analysed, turned out to be the Luciferan. 
As far as could be judged, it appeared that the match, 


440 


HO Kit: 


by the turning of the lock, would be made to impinge 
on the inflammable paste, and so ignite the powder. 
What saved the Pontiff*, was his methodical habit of 
always keeping his keys in one drawer, the key of which 
alone he kept. This box of Pandora, or rather of 
Tisiphone, determined Urbano never to receive a box 
or parcel, unless it had first passed through the hands 
of his first valet and private secretary. No trace could 
be found of the bearer of the box; only a sentry had 
some vague remembrance of having seen a little hump¬ 
backed priest brushing quickly by him, two days before 
the Pope noticed the box. A figure very like him, had 
been observed more than once at the parties of the Car¬ 
dinal cli San Marco. 

He was always in hot water with a full half of the old 
nobles. One of these, in the fourth year of his popedom, 
aware of the exhaustion of the vital principle brought 
on by the overhauling of numerous papers, laid before 
him, with apparent humility, a parcel filled with insig¬ 
nificant petitions, collected from the scum of the me¬ 
tropolis. Urbano, cuifait acerrima mens , scented the 

noble’s object from his countenance; and told him in a 

/ 

husky tone: “ Leave them on the table.” He was no 
sooner departed, than the Pope threw the parcel between 
two mastiff* dogs in bronze, which were the andirons to 
his fire. His contentions with the nobles were, how¬ 
ever, much mitigated towards the close of his pontificate. 


ROMANCE. 


4-11 


Now and then during the vintage, he would go to 
Velletri, accompanied only by Ficoni, his gardener, 
dressed in a purple fustian surtout, and slouched hat. 
He would run the twenty-eight miles in two hours. He 
would there sit in a vineyard, and drink the new must 
with the vintners, chuckling with them gutturally, in his 
odd manner, enjoying the fine landscape, and returning 
late to the Vatican. 

He did one extravagance. In the seventh year of his 
pontificate; complaining one afternoon, to the fat and 
merry Cardinal di San Luca , of the enormous weight of 
business that hung on his mind, the Cardinal replied : 
“ I’ll cure you : there’s a tournament this afternoon, in 
the mausoleum of Augustus. Let us go. We will dis¬ 
guise ourselves as millers.” They did so, putting on old 
jackets and trowsers, well powdered with flour. One of 
the spectators observed: “ Cospetto , quell' nomo rassomig - 
liasi assai al nostro papa'' His companion answered : 
“ Si direbbe cite e il suo fratello." They both returned 
to the Vatican undiscovered; and enjoyed the merriest 
supper they ever partook of, consisting of cold lamb and 
mint-sauce. 

Of the public amusements, he encouraged the oratorios 
during Lent; and occasional operas and plays, for a 
month or two, at other seasons of the year; but he would 
never allow of dancing-girls at any theatre; their entice- 


442 


HORJS 


ments squaring worse than any other amusements, with 
that serious character, which ought to mark the special 
domicile of Catholicism. 

In the worser abuses of the ecclesiastical profession, 
he shewed more than once a stern indignation, as in 
the following case. He had ordered in the third year 
of his pontificate, that the monies deposited in the poor- 
boxes, should be registered weekly, and distributed to 
the poor on the first Monday in every month. While 
he rested at Foligno for a few hours, in his journey to 
Vallombrosa, he summoned two of the chief priests of 
one of the churches, both with good stipends, and 
ordered them to lay before him the account-books of 
the charities. He found them most slovenly kept. He 
said:. “I cannot find out the amount of the monies 
deposited in your poor-box, even for the last year. How 
is this? You think this of no import, do you ? If you 
cannot understand that many of the coppers deposited 
in your box, were often spared from small gains, won 
by sweat falling from the forehead, you shall be made 
to understand it.” He stormed at them both with such 
vehemence, that their hairs stood particularly on end, 
and their faces were as pale as sheets. Nor was this all; 
on his return to the Vatican, he stripped them of their 
benefices, substituting others in their room. In spite of 
this, he had nothing of austerity with regard to his pro¬ 
fession, encouraging frequent recreations for the priests. 


ROMANCE. 


443 


In his portfolio after death, were found papers relative 
to the greater simplification of the ecclesiastical orders. 
They were more projects than any thing determined 
upon. He had, however, nearly made up his mind to 
the plan of destroying all the archiepiscopacies, arch¬ 
deaconries, deaconries, and prebendaries. The new 
church to consist of bishops, and what are called in 
England, rectors and curates. These two last to be 
multiplied in the room of the four first. Of the deans 
and canons, he proposed only to preserve those of St. 
Peter’s, and St. John of Lateran; their utility being 
obvious, in forming the new electoral college for the 
nomination of the Pope. To each of the deans, he 
assigned seven thousand scudi per annum ; to each of the 
canons, one half of that sum. A few of his ideas were 
borrowed from a work, published some years ago, by one 
Mela Britannicus, and entitled : Idea of a new ecclesi¬ 
astical arrangement for the British isles. This opus¬ 
cule he had commented with marginal notes, sometimes 
coinciding with, sometimes differing from the author. 

■* r 

He threw also lightly on paper hints for a certain diminu¬ 
tion of the monasteries, and a division of their inmates 
into the working and reposing classes; to the former he 
assigned regular work, at least two hours a day, at the 
schools of the villages contiguous to their establishments; 
the holidays of course excepted. Miscellaneous ideas 


444 


H O RiE 


also,relative to the alteration of the episcopacies in par - 
tibas , rejecting their titles from non-existent cities, writ¬ 
ten with a trembling hand, after paralysis had struck him, 
are found among the papers of the deceased Pontiff. 

So good was his economy, that he only left the 
pontifical exchequer burthened with a debt of about 
three millions of scudi. Most other pontiffs would 
have sweated the purses of the people with additional 
heavy taxes, to raise palaces for worthless nephews ; 
and the above stated debt was chiefly caused by the 
expenses of removing old buildings for the new market; 
by the works at the Pantheon; and by the transforma¬ 
tion of the Campidoglio into tribunals. The only taxes 
he imposed were, a slight additional export duty on 
works of art, and a double of the actual on the impor¬ 
tation of distilled spirits and liqueurs. 

The expenses of his household, though as far as 
concerned himself frugal, were occasionally consider¬ 
able ; for he had none of that foolish affectation of 
wishing to extort admiration, like several of his prede¬ 
cessors, by saying: “ See that my dinner never costs 
more than three pauls a day” In his portfolio is 
found a list of twenty-seven individuals, mostly men of 
merit, and who had fallen into unmerited adversity, 
pensioned, each from the sum of twenty-five to one 
hundred scudi; some of whom had been pensioned for 


ROMANCE. 


445 


more than a dozen years, and nine of whom were 
annuitants from his private fortune. 

His testamentary dispositions did not regard his 
sister, she being already handsomely provided for; but 
he left her a portrait of Victoria Colonna, by Guido ; 
also a silver chalice, which had been many years in the 
monastery at Bethlehem, given him by the monks of that 
establishment: to the Cardinal di San Pietro, he be¬ 
queathed a splendid portfolio of the finest engravings of 
religious subjects; which had been executed in Italy, 
France, Spain, and Germany, since the death of Pius 
VI.: to the Cardinal di San Matteo, a copy of the 
Italian translation of Milton, lately completed under his 
own patronage : to Castelbrillante, another copy of the 
same work : to the Cardinal of Sanf Andrea della 
Valle, his favourite gem of Marcus Aurelius, by dEpo- 
lianus: to the pious Cardinal di San Bartolomeo, he 
left his favourite Virgin and Child, a master-piece of 
Pellegrino Tebaldi; also six views of the monastery at 
Placencia, in Estremadura, the retreat of the Emperor 
Charles V.: to the Cardinal of Araceli, his fifteen 
views of Mount Sinai; also six views in water-colours, 
of the landscape near the sources of the Tigris, which 
he had bought of an oriental traveller, representing the 
country at or near the site of Paradise; also four views 
of Mount Ararat, drawn by Sir Robert Porter, while 


446 


MORA-: 


travelling in the East: to the Cardinal delle Isole Bri - 
tanniclie , a Didot Virgil, set off with the Duchess of 
Devonshire’s engravings ; also a Shakspeare, interleaved 
with fine prints: to the Honourable John Foster, Presi¬ 
dent of the North American States, a bronze ring, 
known to have been in a monastery near Ravenna, more 
than six hundred years, and always considered as having 
been worn by Gregory the Great: to Custoni, his 
chaplain at Castel Gandolfo, a velvet cap, which be¬ 
longed to Leo X., also a breviary, and walking stick, 
used by Ganganelli. The estate at Arpino he be¬ 
queathed to his favourite valet Casaglio for life, producing 
an annual rental of about fifteen hundred scudi , charge¬ 
able with a life annuity of two hundred and fifty scudi 
to his cook, Henry Wolsey; and as much to Ficoni, his 
gardener; the estate on the death of Casaglio, to revert 
to the nearest representative of the Pope’s family. To 
his cook, Henry Wolsey, whose fidelity in his service 
was most fatiguing and unremitting, he also left a rouleau 
of five hundred English sovereigns, and another, of two 
hundred Spanish doubloons. To Francis Camberlin, 
of Maryland, five hundred Venetian sequins, also a 
letter written by Las Casas from Mexico, to a Cardinal¬ 
secretary of his time, reprobating the cruelties practised 
by the followers of Cortes: to Onnibono, president of 
the College of Sanf Andrea della Valle , a Bible, which 


ROMANCE. 


447 


belonged to the sole English Pope, Adrian IV: to 
Filippo Dorrelli, a mitre, worn by Archbishop Warham, 
one of the last Catholic prelates of Canterbury : to Pili 
his train-bearer, a Latin epistle, written by Leo X. to 
Cardinal Campeius, ordering him to quit forthwith 
London: to Giovanni Russelli, a gold angel of the mint 
of Henry VIII.: to Federico Ripponi, a ditto: to 
Francesco Bordetti, a ditto: to Vassallo Fosso, a ditto: 
with two or three other insignificant legacies, not worth 
recording. 

Various are the opinions in the city, respecting the 
deceased Pontiff. Many sensible persons, attached to 
him, regret that he lost something of his dignity by 
occasionally indulging in jokes; though all that he 
uttered, scarcely took up three hours of his entire pon¬ 
tificate. Two or three which I have recorded, might, 
indeed, have been well excused ; yet when any impor¬ 
tant acts touching his high vocation, were in question, 
no human being could exhibit a more serious spirit or 
demeanour, than Urbano Nono. Some learned men, 
his zealous partisans, exclaim with Tacitus : “ Multos 
pontificum velut inglorios , oblivio obruet; Urbanus 
noster posteritati narratus et traditus, superstes erit” 
Others, who disliked him, cry, remembering a few of his 
wayward jokes : “ Di bonil Qudm ridiculum habui- 
mus Pontificem /” Several of the old aristocracy clap 


448 


HOILE 


their hands and say : “ Thank God the old birbante 

beer-bibente is gone, to swill his English beer and crack 
his jokes in hell.” Onuphrio Peretti, a priest formerly 
attached to one of the dismantled churches, exclaims to 
one of his fraternity, his forehead fissured with two 
frowns: “ Merita per certo , tatte le tanaglie ardenti 
d'inferno” Fulvia Duranti, one of the old duchesses, 
who has two black and yellow tusks projecting from her 
upper jaw, and a breath like the exhalations from Tar- 
quin’s Cloaca, with one eye squinting and the other 
fixed, cries : “ E partita dunque it mostro, per dare la 
sua creazione d'Onorabili ai demonj d* inferno. — Io f 
chi era una celebre Duchesa distinta , per essere una 
onorabile Signora di quel brutto! Piuttosto vorrei 
rotolarmi nel porcile colie troje. Ho voluto fare di suo 
corpo vivente , un torsello di dirizzatoj infuocati .” 

But the mass of the Roman people regret him 
deeply ; as generally do those w 7 ho have expanded their 
minds to the progress of intelligence. 

The Conclave, after the usual interval of time, ren¬ 
dezvouses in the electoral chamber, and substitutes in 
Urbano’s chair, Pepino Lattaqua, of Modena, under the 
title of Innocent XIV., as poor a creature as Nature 
ever formed. One of whose first acts is, to inscribe five 
hundred boards with the w r ords: “ Viva il Sangue di 
Gesu Cristo and five hundred more, with the words: 


ROMANCE. 


449 


“ Indulgenza plenaria per tutti i peccati and to post 
them at the corners of all the streets in Rome. He 
follows up these acts with the creation of a new batch 
of eleven saints. Each of these is to have new churches 
with altars; each, marble sarcophagi, wherein their 
bones are to be enshrined ; each of Pepino’s new god- 
lings is to cost the Roman exchequer at least thirty 
thousand scudi. But Pepino, whichsoever way he stirred, 
found stumbling-blocks in his path, wherewith he was 
circumvented by the genius of Urbano. Perpetual 
irritation at finding his decrees neglected and despised, 
so distempered his nerves, that he falls into a brain 
fever, which closed his days, in the seventh week of his 
pontificate. The Conclave rallies round the liberal 
system of Urbano, and names as his successor, the 
Reverendissimo Ambrose Lettsom, Cardinale delle lsole 
Britanniche , who assumes the tiara under the title of 
Eusebius, with his due number. But his acts belong to 
futurity. 

The funeral of Urbano is more remarkable for solem¬ 
nity than pomp. His dear and favourite valet Casaglio, 
on seeing the pontifical remains sealed in lead, swoons 
away, though his mitred master, per Bacco , had sweated 
him to the bone. Conspicui sunt antiqui nobiles , eo 
ipso , quod in funere prosequendo , non visuntnr. The 
venerable and pious Cardinal di San Bartolomeo follows 

2 G 


450 


FIOKJ2 


the hearse in tears, for he doted on the Pontiff. 
Shouldering his crutch, and with a tremulous voice, 
he exclaims : “ I’d fly from remotest Apennine to follow 
his remains.” He adds, totally forgetting the acts of the 
Council of Lateran : u He must, he shall be canonised ; 
he must, he shall have churches to his name, throughout 
the world. Every bone in his body shall be encased in 
silver; his portraits shall every where be studded with 
chrysolites.” And this exclamation was the first proof 
he gave of his mind lapsing into dotage. He had passed 
his seventy-seventh year. Follow the pontifical remains 
the upright and clear-headed Cardinal of Sant ’ Andrea 
delta Valle; the always merry, but now sad Cardinal 
di San Luca , the acute and refined Cardinal di San 
Matteo , and the unaffected Cardinal of Araceli. Follow 
them also several of the new Onorabili; among them 
are Luciano and Giuseppe Partetti of Viterbo, with 
whom the Pope had occasionally discussed the changes 
in agitation. The procession moves first from the 
Vatican to Santa Maria Maggiore , where the body is 
placed in the centre of the church. Round it blaze five 
hundred tapers; round it swing the incense-burners; 
round it sit as mutes, all night, twelve priests, each 
severally from France, England, Ireland, Spain, Portu¬ 
gal, Upper and Lower Germany, Poland, Hungary, 
New Orleans, Mexico, and Buenos-A vres. The proces- 


ROMANCE. 451 

sion at eight the next morning, joins the hearse leaving 
the church ; and proceeds with measured steps, to San 
Giovanni Lalerano, the cunctarum mater et caput 
ecclesiarum; the favourite church of Urbano, and 
where he willed to be interred. The alternate thunder of 
the great bell of St. Peter’s, and of a forty-eight pounder 
from the castle of St. Angelo, every half minute, is 
continued, till the body enters the church ; on approach¬ 
ing which, thirty of the finest voices in Rome, stationed 
in the Portico, sound the De Profundis, w r hich swells 
gradually on the ears of the procession. Urbano finds 
his final resting-place in a contiguous chapel; and his 
tomb is a sarcophagus of porphyry surmounted with the 
papal tiara, and keys in bronze, with this inscription in 
letters of the same material: 


URBANUS. NONUS. PONT: MAX: 


452 


HORvK ROMANCE 


1 was engaged with thus moulding my Ur- 
bano Nono in the terra cotta of my imagination, 
when 1 was accosted by a monk, not of thin 
air, like Urbano, but of solid flesh and bone. 
He had been patronised by Pius VII., had 
travelled in Egypt, and was conversant with 
the Arabic language. He was an inmate of 
the Capuchin convent on the Janiculum ; and 
he presented me with a complimentary me¬ 
morial in Arabic, which I preserve. Glad 
enough was I to rub my forehead, and join 
him in a walk to the end of the ilex avenue ; 
whence we descended by the cascade to the 
lake below; and so winding our way through 
the pines, where he first found me, we reached 
together the iron portal of the villa. As the 
gates closed upon us, the setting sun was in¬ 
flaming the verge of the horizon; et majores 
cecidire Albanis de montibus umbrce. 

END OF THE HORyE ROMANCE AND VIAT1C.E. 


J. Chilcott, Printer, Wine Street, Bristol. 










A* 



* 

\ ^ <$ 

.<& <3*. 

., V * 0 V <!- v * 0 ^ ^ v * 

• ^ ^ ^Va\ . 






- - w ^ ^ *>* - 
9p a# 9^ ^ * * s 

% \> * ^ *, % 





"» 

>* > U. /I C^ v 

f> 

3 "S/>_ ,A\ V 

® ^WW /^ 1 7L 

* <•., V™/V- V‘*V*-^> S V% 

\<$ ■%- ^ :* 

j* <3ft -.ISsI? n .<& <3, 


<W* 



j> "^fWI® 1 ' ~ " oJ v v> ' < *Wp-8F \ ' or 

>*'VV.,%>'' v<-»,.\. 

% % ^ SMk'-S^ 





s a, : 

■%> *, 

<*. ** * * <, V s A 1 ' 

sVl f *A o°\ 
r ^ 0* 




>4 -C x < A <* ^ 

•Cr * ' * 0 a ^ 

® o x ^o x 


- r ^ \ 

^ yy s - y o V y 7 ; 

% V * x * 0 A ^ 

° ^ <y . ||jy | ° 

* ./ %■ '&$&■? A ' 

- V * c 


% JC? 



^ 0^ 


w *° $ c * : «llif* ^ 9* -. ~ 

^7f!T'' 95 '”*•( , . V'" ^ «&/*/ .. ''\\^ % '*/ 

v *’*•'. %, . v Vr^. \, , 




'^ c s'\# % t '"?7; T''9x‘ 

r» V S - x<, °/'_ ^ V ^ * * o*1*. 

^WA'o "%» ^ 

» <S>\\Z-W//Jo z °tP <\' 

o 0 '^’-'* *■”' ^'“''g 0 ^ ’■ , ° 0 ' ^ "' r0 v < 

- <C \MAc ^ 




- ww * tfP *«> ^ ~ 

A ^ V ^ ^ 0 A ^ 

^ ^ A* ^V/h. % ^ 





° ^ o' 



o 

O cS y^. 

r ,# s ^ ^ r , 

A & v , <. *< ..O A° 

O' ^ °/> <0. 



^o< 
<5 Q> 



^ 0^ 


° .-c6- ■- (Ollli^ flV CA 

^ \w^* / < w ,~ Ai- ^ , 

%,*'*<■”- ‘b/^s' f 9x ' 

C <» r <5, . * 

\v ^T 





z ^ A. « g\W¥M z ^ V 

. c3 y^» -I i^fflfUpy o cb y^> -* ^IPflUp^ O c ^> y^V 

^ ^ c %. . 0 ^ 0 ,u/o ^ 0 

^ c^ =r c^\M/A c 7 * 5 ^ 6^ 



s" aG 


n ^ 


o o> -* ^iiii^ o A o, 

v^y v^''/ 
x y^;*A v ^* 0 ' 



* 


tb A > 

y ^ %^Bpgpr^ < 
^ ^i ^ ^ <^ s A> 






























































































































: $ : 


° -* 

^ '"0700T <; b'"^Ts-',%. STTT ' V x i 

V * Y * 0 /■ ^ V * * * o /■ *% V 





* 0 , ' ' * * s S 0 Y V 

3 V ^ rP ‘ 


o c3 _j 

-fl^ * 

<**'** s' aG 




☆ * 


tr-' ^ * 

.s' xV 9> ** 

& Ssf&fA * % .& * 




\^ Oi ^ * S ’ \ V 'f j 

A ^ * 0 /■ ^ \> a V* 0/ . 

^ A^ or’ ^A*° ^ A^ 

.% A 



'<<? 'itt^ ^0 ^ ‘ iV * 

., _ * f / % viPy f /“ % % 

* ^ V ‘ *''(/-’*•> v '** °(/ ^ • • 

% *p / O ^ ^ 5j « 

: ^ °^ aIBst * .0 ^ 


O cT> <V 
* •# ^ 




° ^ o' 

r!\'' <$ %'* 7TT'\^'' o 0 - 

-6 r {? 35 * ^<£> ^ T- <? 5 ) » <>-. 

^ * aVa <■„ %, A .-p^p-p 


<v *1 ..o' 4^~ 

'.% t?Vl"'.' 

r> f — 






O <9 >► AJ* 

•* 4 * s ' Op < 

v * Y * 0 * ^ . 



Q>. *, 


a ☆ 


a </><V 


° C$ 

•Gp v\ * 
PA ^ > 


•A<** 


o cS 

^ r <& ^ 
si!' * *' rP 5 ' -1 * _°'. % 1 ‘ * *'' o°^ & » v * 0 A 


° <H o. 




^’ 0 ^ 
'. % V » * f , •%, 





o Ob 


^ p# ^ % 


^ ^ , fX 

« *P_ 0 *■ „<J.^« V ^ 

: 


cp a. ; 
^ % \ 


* it * “> 


: 

- P# ^ 



r 0 k ^ v * o 


°n "i 




' s v^: - -, °%^ !Ts >\ ^ o, /, 

■# :Mi\\^ * 

'« cS c cp Ov Z> ^fliflfl^ o cS A 

, • ,* & # ^ ’*Svrs r# ^ f / • 

•*'.% cP-^I* 0 '. ^ 0°\^*°'.% o° r ^ Y - 0 

^ ^ %, ;«f ■> O Q, 





* ft, 


.s'\^ a'*p!s''# <^,'*7r.s'\^ °o,' 

A *W/U V A .'>V/h V A Aa%^A.*p % 



rS y' 


ftCO 














































































